The Secret of Sartorius
by Lady Liadan
Summary: 1 year before Harry attends Hogwards Lucius Malfoy meets someone. A rip-roaring tale of dark magic, intrigue, lust and house-elf torture. Also: the danger of being an undercover auror, broom travel, Hogwarts breakfast and who really sleeps with Narcissa!
1. Plans for the Summer

**Introduction **

This story takes place the year before the events described in _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_. Most of the characters and locations are borrowed from Ms. Rowling's wonderful books and after having had some fun with our favorite Death Eater I have tried to respectfully return them all to the state I found them in.

However, I take full responsibility for the creation of the Sartorius clan, the horrid George Lepidus and several assorted witches and muggles. I also need to apologize for making Lucius' father seem like a rather awful parent and insinuating that Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy may have anything but a perfectly loving and harmonious marriage. So I tend my sincerest apologies to the Malfoy family for casting any passing shadow on their name.

The basic description of the process of creating a homunculus was provided by the famous physician and alchemist Paracelsus, a wizard who was born in Switzerland in 1493. Some of the other magical principles and procedures described are part of the modern practice of High Magic and Wicca. I have to mention my father for his tireless tuition in Latin, which helped enormously with the spells and mottos of the family crests of the Malfoys and the Sartorius.

Of course if Jason Isaacs had not lent Lucius Malfoy his considerable talent as an actor, Ms. Rowling's character would not have turned out to be the man he is today and would rarely deserve the attention he is getting from his numerous admirers. So the biggest thank you has to be reserved for him.

The story would have to be rated NC17 with some muggle and house elf torture, strong language and drug (AKA potion) abuse thrown in.

Please enjoy, review and may the Dark Lord be with you!

* * *

**Plans for the Summer**

_Consilia__ res magis dant hominibus quam homines rebus.__ - Men's plans should be regulated by the circumstances, not circumstances by the plans. (Titus Livius: Annales XXII, 39)_

Lucius Malfoy picked a velvet-black rose from the trellis outside the dining room and took a deep breath of its intoxicating heavy scent. Gravel crunched under his boots as he turned on the path outside Malfoy Manor and surveyed the immaculately groomed gardens. Under a warm golden June sun clipped boxwood hedges cast bluish shadows on the trimmed grass, bees hummed among the flowers and small white clouds floated lazily in a forget-me-not sky. He allowed himself a satisfied smile. Free at last – for almost three long months at any rate. As every year Narcissa, his wife, had packed up young Draco, the nanny, the private tutor and half the household that very morning and had left for the entire summer to spend time at the ancient Black summer residence in Norfolk with her family.

Lucius took another sniff and his smile broadened into a grin. It had been high time, too. The entire spring Narcissa had tortured him with social engagements, there was the stuffy and boring Ostara celebration at the Ministry of Magic where he had listened to a seriously inebriated Fudge lament his woes and the grave responsibilities of his position for what had seemed like hours. For a short unnerving moment he had seriously contemplated slipping the old fool a quiet _avara__ kedavra_ and be done with it.

Right after that followed the annual Beltane feast at the Wimmerlings, which was a dreadful affair with a lot of dancing around a May pole and at least one traditional handfasting performed. Lucius shook his head. Beltane had been a real howler of a feast in heathen times: people had had a night's leave to get out of control and fuck the hell out of anyone they damn well liked, and even in Christian times witches had flown to the Blocksberg to have congress with wizards and demons. Well, at least this year he had been able to do justice to the spirit of the occasion by enjoying a rather spontaneous tryst with Emma Wimmerling, daughter of the house and a strapping young witch who was just finishing her final year at Hogwarts. At the memory Lucius ran a reminiscent thumb across his lips.

Then of course there was the traditional May ball at his house, where Narcissa went into a state of uninterrupted hysterics for about a month until everything was arranged to her linking. This year she had even briefly fallen out with her current lover, Draco's private tutor, during the preparations. Lucius actually managed to feel some pity for the hapless young wizard who had got himself ensnared in that tangled web of fake decorum, neuroses and artificial catastrophes that was his darling wife. And the poor fool had to try and deal with his son, too, a petulant sniveling brat, who lied and shamelessly bullied his mother, tried to manipulate even his father, and enjoyed torturing house elves and smaller animals. Lucius had few illusions regarding his offspring, but hoped that he would start to grow out of some of his more annoying behavior when he joined Hogwarts next year, even though he had to admit some grudging admiration for Draco's inventiveness with regard to the house elves. Ten-year-olds could be cruel little blighters.

In any case, after the social purgatory of spring he had been ready to drink down a goblet of essence of wolfsbane until this morning. Now he had his freedom. He could take over the manor kitchen for alchemistical experiments and potion making with no one complaining about the funky scents that would permeate the house for days, could have breakfast in his study stark naked and read the _Daily Prophet_ till noon if the mood took him, even could invite some of his Death Eater associates over for secret activities, including a spot of muggle torture, without Narcissa whining about noises from the cellars and bloodstains on the carpets of the main hall. Hell, he could talk to Lark, one of his business agents in London, who knew his taste and have him send over a couple of mudblood whores, invite some of the lads round and have himself a decent old-fashioned orgy.

Lucius Malfoy crushed and dropped the petals of the rose he had picked and strode back into the house with a purpose, several plans taking shape in his mind. Life was definitely going to be good this summer!

* * *

Eleanor Sartorius took the tube home after the last day of term teaching art history at University College, London. She sighed as rush hour commuters squeezed around her in a ball of overheated, sticky humanity. Well, it was the last time she needed to put up with this, at least for the next few weeks. She was looking forward to the lazy luxury of the summer holidays where her only duties consisted of some research projects she had set for herself. 

Then she paused at the thought. So, that was all she could be looking forward to? She might as well be seventy-four instead of thirty-two. 'You're just on the rebound after Marcus,' she told herself, but knew already that she was only trying to fool herself. After all, she had been the one to break things off after he got more involved than she was ready to tolerate. Something else was missing, something she had forbidden herself to think about. She sighed. Living between two worlds only resulted in feeling a stranger in both.

Finally the train had reached her station. She clutched her satchel of books and wriggled her way out of the compartment. As she stood on the platform and decided that no one was watching her, she slipped her hand into the bag, felt around until her fingers curled around a long slender stick of wood, and quietly murmured: "Frigifacio!" Immediately a cool breeze enveloped her, gently lapped at her light summer dress and caused goose-bumps to rise on her forearms. She glanced around quickly and strode up to the lifts that led to street level.

After a brief stop at the street corner grocery she finally made her way up to her house, a small, narrow, two-storey Victorian terraced building with a long strip of garden with old trees in the front and in the back that effectively hid the place from the street. She had inherited it from her parents. She opened the squeaky cast-iron garden gate and walked down the slate paved path that led up to the front door. She would put away her books, have a shower, feed Isis, her cat, and then enjoy a good glass of red wine in the garden and watch the sunset, a perfect end to the day. Balancing her satchel and her bag of groceries she fished for her key, but had no luck. Finally she gave up and her hand traveled back into her bag. "Alohomora!" she said in a whisper and the front door swung open.

Isis welcomed her in the front hall and stalked around her legs, intent obviously on tripping her up. She battled through to the kitchen and placed her books and shopping on the table. Then she picked up her pet and rubbed her under the chin. "Now, aren't we affectionate today, hm? What's up?" She turned back into the hallway when she thought she heard a noise from the living-room. Surprised she sat the cat down and cautiously approached the door at the end of the hall that stood half ajar. The room seemed to be filled with a golden mist from the westering sun and for a moment her eyes fought to adjust to the strange light when she noticed two people, a man and a woman, sitting opposite each other on the sofa and one of the easy chairs, talking in soft voices.

The man seemed very, very old with long snow-white hair and a beard that reached well down to his belt. He wore a slightly pointy hat made of purple brocade and a matching long gown. The woman obviously loved plaid, because her frock, cloak and hat were all cut from the same sturdy green and brown weave. Both turned to face her as she entered the living room and stood up to greet her. "Miss Sartorius," said the man in a gentle, quiet voice. "Please do not be alarmed: we mean you no harm. Allow me to introduce us. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, this is Professor Minerva McGonagal."

Eleanor remembered to close her mouth at the unlikely sight. After all, an encounter like this should not surprise her. It had just been a while since she had had any dealings with wizards and witchfolk. Sudden apparitions at will just were not part of the usual routine of the muggles she knew and worked with. She walked up to her visitors and shook hands, feeling a sudden surge of excitement. Then she invited them to sit down again and pulled up another chair. "Well, what can I do for you?" she asked.

Professor Dumbledore stroked his beard for a few seconds. "We are here to extend you a job offer," he finally said. "We are looking for a replacement for Professor Mercer, our instructor for muggle studies. We feel that you would be the most qualified witch for the job." She now stared at them in disbelief. "But I have elected to live back in the muggle world," she answered. "My parents made that choice before me, even though they sent me to Durmstrang for my training. I was not planning on switching over."

Now Professor McGonagal spoke up in her sharp and precise, but not unfriendly manner. "We understand, but we are really in a fix. Philip's, I mean Professor Mercer's brother was attacked by a dragon in Wales, and Philip needs to be on sabbatical this year to take care of some pressing family matters. As a witch who lives among muggles you know better than anyone how vital it is to give the next generation of young wizards and witches the knowledge that they need to deal with non-magical humans." Eleanor looked out of the window to collect her thoughts. The strange thrill she had felt at meeting wizarding folk had not subsided. She thought back to her rather depressing musings on the tube and suddenly realized that her reluctance had more to do with the fact that she seemed settled into her routine and less with actual misgivings at switching back over to the exciting and colorful life she had briefly encountered at school.

She just had to decide whether to undo her parents' decision and face the wizarding world again, the world where her family originated and had lived for centuries, her famous and heroic grandfather, Falco Sartorius, her revered great-aunt Augusta, murdered by muggles, her uncle Conrad and his wife and children, killed in the 70s by Voldemort's murderous fury. Her father and mother had tried to flee all of this, moving from Cologne in Germany to London, where they had immersed themselves in the millions of muggles of the vast metropolis and tried to hide from their past. She would be confronting a lot of family history and again bear the burden of being "a Sartorius", descendant of one of the oldest noble wizard families of Germany. Then again, one could not hide forever, and she had missed some of the life she had actually enjoyed at Durmstrang. A furtive door-opening or cooling spell whispered in secret just did not feel the same. In the end her decision came to her quite quickly.

She collected her thoughts and looked at the two Hogwarts teachers. "Very well, I accept," she said. Dumbledore and McGonagal exchanged a quick glance. "However, I will need to make some arrangements. Have someone look after the house, pack up. Also, can I bring my familiar?" "Of course," said McGonagal. "Your cat, I presume?" She nodded. Her visitors got up. "We are very glad that you are going to help us," said the old wizard. He pulled a small wooden puzzle box out of the folds of his robe. "Here is a portkey. Just use it when you are ready. We'll send a few house elves through to assist with your trunks. Your quarters at Hogwarts will be ready. Welcome to the school, Eleanor." He shook hands with her, as did McGonagal, and then the two disappeared.

She sat down heavily on the sofa. The evening sun drenched the living room in coppery light. "Oh, Mum, Dad, you'd be pretty unhappy now," she murmured. But inside she felt an excitement she had been missing for quite some time. This would be a good way to reacquaint herself with the wizarding world and to find out where she really belonged.


	2. An Encounter

**An Encounter**

_"In life there are meetings which seem like a fate." (Edward Bulwer Lytton: Lucile, part II, canto III, pt. 8)_

The musty smell in the old cramped shop was stronger than usual in the warm summer air as Lucius Malfoy strode into _Borgin and Burke's_. With his lips twitching in disgust he carefully stepped over a few open boxes that contained assorted mummy parts. He had just had his boots shined and it would not do to get this filth all over them. Obviously Mr. Borgin had got new supplies that morning as an old and bent house elf with a long yellow scar across his face was busy dragging more trunks and boxes to the back of the store for sorting.

Presently the owner of the store appeared out of the shadows behind the counter and approached his costumer, rubbing his hands in anticipation of a juicy and profitable deal. "Mr. Malfoy, always such a pleasure to see a wizard of your arcane knowledge of the dark arts. What can I do for you today? We have a consignment of mummies, just arrived from Thebes. I can grind some up for you for some fresh _caput mortuum_. Does wonders in rejuvenation and love potions, not that either yourself or your lovely wife would need any…" He trailed off. It was very easy to offend the Malfoys, haughty and arrogant wizards, all of them.

The blond man before him didn't even bother to hide the look of contempt on his elegant features. What a sorry mess of a store. It was really a shame that a self-respecting wizard had to venture into a den like this to get the basic necessities of his craft. More than high time that the dark arts came out of the cobweb-laden backstreets and were accorded their proper respect. His father and Voldemort had tried it once, and it would happen again if he and the other Death Eaters could help it. Well, he was here for a purpose, so he should best get it over with.

Lucius Malfoy handed Mr. Borgin a prepared list of rather dubious tinctures, powders and plant extracts and while the shopkeeper and his elf scurried about to assemble the order he busied himself poking at some of the mummy pieces with his black silvertipped snake cane. "Grind me up this bit here as well," he demanded, pointing at a leathery skull that still had a few wisps of hair pasted to its sides.

Borgin, who had just placed the last vial on the list into the soft woodchip padding of a cardboard box, came forward, picked up the head and tossed it to his elf, who disappeared with it to the back of the store where shortly they heard chopping noises and then the crunching of an old mechanical coffee grinder. Borgin tried to make polite conversation, but finally gave up when his customer seemed more engrossed examining the chased silver snake head atop his cane and flicking imaginary pieces of dust off his pale grey summer cloak.

Finally the elf reappeared and presented a small wooden container to his master, who labeled it and stowed it among the other philters and poisons in Mr. Malfoy's box. "Have it delivered to Malfoy Manor as soon as possible," the wizard demanded. "How much do I owe you?" Borgin went over the prices in his head, added a few extra galleons for having to put up with the contempt of a Malfoy and stated his final sum. The blond wizard's lips curled in a brief display of displeasure, but he pulled out a fat leather purse and paid without a comment. Then he turned on his heel and strode out of Borgin and Burkes.

"Bloody uppity toff," snarled the elf and Burgin pretended to give him a small kick for his rudeness. "That, and one of my best customers," he said, leering at his assistant. "Come on Scars, let's get these old Egyptians chopped up."

Outside the store Lucius Malfoy quickly made his way up Knockturn Alley, carefully avoiding contact with the filthy witches and wizards that lurked in the cool shadows between the narrow storefronts. What a sorry and decrepit place. He really had to set up a suitably discreet arrangement where he could simply owl Burgin his supply lists, have _Gringotts_ transfer the money via a fake account to protect his identity and be done with it. Finally he came up a last flight of steps and merged back into the general traffic of visitors on Diagon Alley. He turned left and slowed his pace as he looked around if anyone had seen him. He didn't care for any idle gossip connecting him with the goings-on in Knockturn Alley.

No one seemed to pay attention. As a matter of fact, Diagon Alley was not very busy at all. As he strolled down the pavement a shop door a few houses down the road opened and three witches piled out. He heard a peal of laughter and watched as the youngest of the women briefly put her arms around the waists of her companions as they walked away in front of him.

Two of the witches he thought he knew. Being on the board of governors for Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Magic he had encountered Professor McGonagal often enough to recognize that green and brown plaid anywhere. The other witch in a dirt stained robe with stubborn brown curls and a hat like an upended turnip had to be Professor Sprout. Seeing either of those hags should not have had any effect on him, but the young witch between them was an entirely different matter.

Lucius Malfoy felt his pulse quicken at the sight of her. She was tall and slim and clad in a blue-grey dress with a tight-fitting embroidered bodice and loose sleeves. The hem of the skirt almost reached her ankles and revealed naked white feet that seemed to dance over the rough flagstones of the road as she walked. As she turned her head left and right in animated conversation with the other two women she kept tossing a mass of coppery red curls that cascaded down her back almost all the way to her narrow waist. Unlike most witches she did not wear a hat. As a matter of fact she did not look much like a witch at all to him, and he rather found himself wondering, if anyone had ever encountered a red-headed Veela.

Maiden, Mother and Crone, now he was getting carried away! But there was something about this woman that made him want to see her face, to meet her. What was she doing with McGonagal and Sprout anyway? Who was she? He slowed his pace, pretended to look at some displays in the store windows and let the three women get ahead of him. It wouldn't do to give the impression that he had been following them.

The witches eventually crossed the road and studied a floating menu display at a café that had put out chairs and tables halfway into the street to make the best of the warm sunny summer weather. They conferred and finally settled at a table piling shopping bags and boxes around them. As they were now facing the street they would notice him.

Quickly he ducked into the doorway of a shop and picked up a rememberall from a display. A few seconds now and he would turn back, pretend to see two members of staff from Hogwarts and in his position would of course have to go over to them and be so polite as to have a brief conversation. Time enough to get introduced to the mystery woman and to take a good look at her.

* * *

Eleanor Sartorius had fun. When she had mentioned during breakfast at Hogwarts that she needed some clothes and robes, as her muggle garments were rather inappropriate to wear at the school, Minerva McGonagal and Pomona Sprout had volunteered with some enthusiasm to accompany her to Diagon Alley to help her get everything she needed. So she had picked out the most witch-like dress that she had brought back with her from her life as a muggle, and they had set out later that morning. Pomona wanted to go to _Viridias Seed and Bulb Emporium_ to pick out supplies for the next school year and Minerva needed a new sheath for her wand and some feather mite powder for her owl. 

After a long morning of shopping she had bought some dresses, a summer and a winter cloak, several tunics, coats and pants, and some boots and shoes. Despite the earnest attempts of her friends to make her buy herself some hats, she had steadfastly refused, though. She hated hats. She had also baulked at their suggestion to buy underwear. The spandex revolution had completely bypassed the wizarding world, and her muggle bras and panties were both sexier and more comfortable than anything _The Witch's Closet_ in Diagon Alley had to offer.

So now they sat at a street table at the _Silver Teapot Caf_ and rested their tired legs. She closed her eyes for a moment and turned her face into the warm summer sun. She really didn't regret her decision to join the staff at Hogwarts. Everyone had made her feel very welcome so far. Presently a young man appeared to take their order.

"Hm, Janus Miller," said Minerva, recognizing him as a student. "Working during the summer vacations?" Miller, a tall, freckled boy, nodded. "Yes Professor, I want to go and study in Alexandria next year when I finish school. Their college fees are rather high, though, I'm afraid." "Ah, yes, the _Hermetica _in Alexandria," said the witch approvingly. "It will be worth it. We'll leave a nice tip." Then Pomona ordered two pumpkin poppers and a chilled chocolate, Minerva picked out a fire pepper bow and some earl grey and Eleanor decided on some green tea and a puff pastry filled with cheese and herbs that went by the imaginative name of _Dragon Snot Purse_. Young Miller went back inside to get their order prepared.

With some time to kill Eleanor stretched her legs under the table and looked around at the witches and wizards that walked along the street, studied the displays, haggled with street vendors and occasionally paused in small groups to chat.

Suddenly a man on the other side of the road drew her attention. He was obviously a wizard, but of an appearance that stood out in the crowd. His shoulder long hair was so blond as to be almost white. He was tall and had thrown a grey summer cloak back over his right shoulder to reveal a white silk shirt, grey waistcoat and tan riding pants with knee-high soft leather boots. Every piece of his clothing spoke of taste and the money to satisfy it. But even more than by his clothes she felt arrested by his face: high forehead, hooded grey eyes under arched brows, a proud, curved, sensuous mouth that seemed to curl in a faint arrogant sneer, chiseled cheekbones and a firm round chin. This was a face not easy to forget.

Just as she looked, his pale grey eyes suddenly focused on her with a quite unnerving intensity. He had caught her watching him and he seemed somewhat amused by his discovery. Her breath quickened in response.

"Oh, no," she suddenly heard Pomona sigh beside her. "Now we've done it!" "What," asked Minerva. "Lucius Malfoy, he's seen us." And really, the wizard in grey was increasing his stride and preparing to cross the road. "Who's Lucius…?" Eleanor began to ask, but Minerva interrupted her in a rushed whisper. "Bad news, my dear, follower of You-Know-Who, though that was never proved. These days he's on the board of governors for Hogwarts and an arrogant, overbearing pain in the behind. Hates Albus, too. Lets try to get rid of him quickly."

"Well, what a pleasant surprise," purred Lucius Malfoy with a self-satisfied smirk as he approached the table. This had gone down exactly as planned. The red-haired woman had seen him just when he had wanted her to, and her dilated pupils told him that he had left an impression. However, she had not backed off or looked away when he had met her eyes, which was interesting. She seemed to enjoy a challenge.

"Professors McGonagal and Sprout," he continued as he shook hands. "And, pray, may I inquire about your charming companion?" Pomona looked up at their visitor as if she had just swallowed a spider. And from what Eleanor could see of the wizard's face, the dislike was mutual. "This is Professor Sartorius, our new teacher for muggle studies," she said curtly.

Finally Lucius was at liberty to direct his full attention to his new discovery. "Professor Sartorius, I am Lucius Malfoy." Voice like silk over gravel, she thought as she stretched out her hand to shake his, but instead was surprised when he firmly held on to her fingers and bent to kiss the back of her hand. His full, smooth lips lingered a moment longer than they had to, and even when he straightened back up he didn't let go of her. "Forgive me, but I couldn't help noticing an intoxicating scent," he continued in a low voice, making this into the semblance of an intimate conversation that excluded the other two women. "Would it be too bold of me to ask you to you reveal your secret to me?"

Pomona snorted in disgust, but Lucius' gaze remained firmly fixed on his prize. The Sartorius woman was an extraordinary beauty. Her green gold-flecked eyes met his as she licked the full bow of her upper lip, and when she answered he detected a slight hint of an accent in her deep rich voice. "Well, it's a recipe I mix myself," she said. "Three parts frankincense, one part Siamese benzoe and a half part juniper. All suspended in almond oil. It has the added benefit of being a reliable protectant." He inclined his head and gave her a seductive smile. "Thank you," he murmured. "I hear the faintest accent," he continued, unwilling to give up on the conversation just yet, but he finally released her hand. "Are you of the Cologne Sartorius family?"

The unwavering gaze from his grey eyes seemed to acquire a strange edge as he spoke and he watched as the velvety skin at her throat moved. She had to swallow before she answered him. Suppressed anger colored her voice now and he felt a brief thrill of excitement at her emotion. "Well, due to relatively recent events there are no Sartorius left in Cologne," she said.

If he was a follower of Voldemort, then he had to know that people like him had been responsible for the death of her uncle's family and the exile of hers. "But, yes, I am the granddaughter of Falco Sartorius." He stared at her now, but recovered his composure almost immediately. "I consider it an honor to meet you," he said in the same velvety voice that he had used with her before.

Now he turned slightly to Minerva and said: "It is reassuring to see that Professor Dumbledore actually considers adding a pureblood witch to his staff for once. Do we have a replacement for Defense against the Dark Arts, yet?" Minerva compressed her lips and shook her head. "Dreadful business," Lucius continued smoothly. "But as long as the headmaster picks incompetent people like Dreyfuss, we will have problems. Seems like we are interviewing a new candidate every year. Well, let me know when you have acquired your latest victim. I would like to speak with the new staff later this summer. The board of governors really needs to get more involved in the appointment process." Eleanor noticed that Minerva looked quietly furious by now, but then had to focus again on the blond wizard standing before her, as he resumed speaking to her.

"Professor, it has been most delightful talking with you. I hope to be able to review your curriculum with you in a few weeks time for the board of governors. In the meantime, if you lack anything at Hogwarts, please do not hesitate to let me know. We take the welfare of our staff very seriously." He locked eyes with her one more time, as if he wanted to commit her face to memory in every detail or perhaps as if they had just reached some kind of secret agreement. "Well, I need to be going, enjoy your lunch." He kissed her hand once more, taking his time as before, gave the other witches a dismissive wave, tossed his cloak back over his shoulder and strode off in the direction of _Gringotts_.

"What a lying creep!" hissed Pomona. "Welfare of the staff, my foot! He was hoping you lacked something else entirely, that he would be only too happy to provide!" Minerva looked at her colleague in alarm. "Please, Pomona, could you try and be less blunt?" "Well, it's true, isn't it? You saw him! Eleanor, are you all right?"

Eleanor blinked and refocused on the conversation. She had to admit that she had been following him with her eyes. "It's okay, my dear," she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. "I know when someone tries to put the moves on me. And this certainly was a pretty obvious attempt." Professor Sprout was not impressed. "The way you look my dear, I would say that it worked, too. I tell you, the guy is as bad as he is blond. I would not be surprised if his father had been part of the gang of Death Eaters that killed your uncle." Eleanor nodded. "I know. Look Pomona, I am well aware of what just happened. He certainly did not endear himself to me by being rude to you."

At that moment Janus Miller came back out with a large tray and soon the conversation drifted off to other topics. But Eleanor still caught herself trying to remember the way he had looked at her. Something strange had been going on among the hand-kissing and polite conversation. She had felt a flow of energy and a dark undercurrent. The meeting had shaken her up in more ways than she could explain away by pure physical attraction and by her knowledge of his alliance to Lord Voldemort.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy slowed his pace when he was sure he was out of sight of the cafe. He found himself breathing hard. The witch was a Sartorius. Falco's granddaughter no less, when everyone had thought that the whole family had perished. The rout had taken place when he had been in his teens. His father had already presented him to the Death Eaters, but he had been too young yet, to join them on missions like that. However, he recalled the trip to the continent his father had made with the others under the command of the Dark Lord in the hopes to win the alliance of the German chapter of the Death Eaters, who still called themselves at the time the Knights of Walpurgis. 

His father had been furious when they returned. The mission had failed, three of the group had been killed, and it had put the whole continental branch of the organization in an uproar. Lucius also suspected that his father had actually been unhappy at the extermination of one of the old pureblood houses, but of course had not been able to confront Voldemort about his ruthless approach for fear of being punished himself as a traitor.

The wizard found himself walking on in a daze. He was unsure about his next plans, which in itself felt rather unnerving. Yes, he now lusted after her with a vengeance, but that was actually the easy part. He certainly had been there before and had normally no trouble getting what he wanted. But while he had talked to her, he had been aware of something else beside desire. He had felt a connection. Her deep, green eyes had drawn him to her, as if being with her and seeing her resembled some kind of drug or spell. He needed to do more research. How had she survived? Where did she come from? Why was she teaching – what – muggle studies – at Hogwarts? A Sartorius teaching about muggles? This was preposterous! He had been too preoccupied with her appearance to notice how ludicrous this had sounded. So if it was a pretext, what was her real purpose?

Lucius snapped out of his reveries when he found himself right outside the _Leaky Cauldron_. He had meant to stop at the bank, but instead had walked almost the full length of Diagon Alley. Slightly annoyed at himself, he decided not to retrace his steps but to head back home. His financial matters could wait another day. He had more pressing business.

* * *

Eleanor Sartorius spent the evening trying on her new wardrobe. She was very pleased with her purchases as she looked at herself in the tall mirror in her bedroom at Hogwarts. Muggle clothes were so mundane, functional and ugly when compared to the exuberance of witch garments. She buttoned up her last piece, a dark plum velvet tunic with black and burnt orange trim and met her own gaze in the glass. What had Lucius Malfoy seen when he'd looked at her that noon? Why couldn't she put the brief encounter out of her thoughts? 

She hadn't been born yesterday and had had her fair share of men: a few boys at Durmstrang, none of the relationships serious enough to survive the parting of everyone at the end of the last year, though. Then there had been Nigel, a muggle, when she had come back to London to study history of art. That had been a bit more serious and lasted for over two years, but Nigel had got a scholarship to the States, and she had already found her mentor in London, so they had separated. She had taken a few months to recover and then had dated a few guys, just for fun, no commitments.

The next long involvement had been with Marcus, her mentor's assistant when she had worked on her thesis. But Marcus had started to talk about a more serious commitment, and she had been spooked. He did not know about her past, about her family, or about her magical abilities, and she felt that to marry him would mean living a lie. So she had eventually broken things off. The split had not been amicable.

Still, in all her memory she could not remember that any of her men had affected her during a first encounter in quite the way Lucius Malfoy had. 'If I possessed an ounce of family loyalty and was a true Sartorius, I would fantasize about putting the _cruciatus_ curse on him and watch him writhe at my feet in agony,' she thought. Quickly she shook her head to clear her mind. That was even more disturbing than her previous imaginings of ripping his elegant clothes off him and having furious, passionate sex. Now, apparently she was drifting off into some questionable realm of sadism. Enough already!

A sudden noise at the window of her bedroom broke her train of thought. She looked up and saw a big shadow beating at the lead glass panes. Quickly she walked over and opened the window to find a large dark eagle owl sitting on the sill and looking at her out of hard yellow eyes. She walked over to her study and picked up a heavy black owling glove. "Come on in, then," she said to the owl, who hopped off the sill and onto her outstretched hand. Eleanor placed him on a perch and looked at his feet. "Well, you're one gorgeous bird, so let's see what you have for me."

The owl had a small black tube tied to its left leg and as Eleanor unscrewed it she noticed a beautiful silver intaglio down the sides, depicting flying snakes. Elegance down to the last detail. She had a pretty strong suspicion about the owner of the owl. The tube contained a small rolled up piece of parchment that felt like cream under her fingertips – finest quality vellum. She unfurled the paper and saw what had to be the Malfoy crest at the top, a silver snake, coiled to strike, on black with the motto _nemo me impune lacessit_ – no one provokes me unpunished. She thought that this was rather fitting for the haughty clan of the Malfoys and then read the message, penned in black ink in a bold and fluid script.

"Dear Professor Sartorius,

It was most delightful to meet you this morning. I would like to thank you for your grace and courtesy and take this opportunity to welcome you more formally to our school. No doubt, it will be a pleasure and a privilege for the staff and the students to be able to profit from your knowledge during the upcoming school year. As a member of the board of governors I would like to let you know that we are all honored to have a descendant of the illustrious Sartorius family join our community. If you require anything during your time here, please do not hesitate to let me know. I regard it as a personal honor to be able to make your stay here as enjoyable as possible.

Sincerely yours, Lucius Malfoy."

Well, this man didn't waste time. It seemed wizards had other rules than muggles, who maintained that an agonizing wait had to take place between a meeting and the first phone call. She had already been owled and it had only been hours. She released the parchment, which rolled itself back up and took a long look at the owl. Well, here was a little bit of revenge for her: she would let him stew. The letter really only asked for her to contact him if she needed anything, and as she was settled in quite comfortably, there was no need to write a reply.

She fastened the empty tube back on the owl's foot, offered him some water and sent him on his way. The entire time she tried to ignore the nagging voice in her head that tried to convince her that in fact, she did require quite a few things, that Lucius Malfoy had exactly what she needed and that she was only punishing herself for not asking for it. She slammed the window shut after the owl. "Shut up already!" she hissed at herself.


	3. Of Muggles and Dark Arts

**Of Muggles and Dark Arts**

_"Not all things have to be scrutinized, nor all friends tested, not all enemies exposed and denounced." (Spanish Proverb)_

A few weeks had passed and Eleanor Sartorius had actually managed to put her encounter so far behind her that she only caught herself thinking about Lucius Malfoy once in a while rather than on a continuous basis. She spent time racing brooms with Madame Hooch, as her own practice had become quite rusty over the years she had lived among muggles. The school library also held her interest for long hours, and some of the evenings she went over to Hogsmeade with a group of the teachers and sat outside the _Three Brooms_ drinking elderberry wine. Her teaching plan for muggle studies was prepared and written up, and she hoped that her practical approach would interest her young students. She had even got permission from Dumbledore to plan in a few excursions to give everyone some first-hand experience of life as a muggle.

Then, one sunny Monday morning, an owl that looked very familiar to her, landed before Albus Dumbledore at the high table, and after the headmaster had read the message it was carrying, he had informed her and Professor Lana Piotrofski, the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, that Mr. Malfoy had asked for their time on Thursday evening as he was planning to interview them on behalf of the board of governors.

Time seemed to creep along very slowly that week until finally on Thursday she went up with her colleague to the second floor in the great tower where the school had set aside an office for the use of visiting board members. Lana's interview was scheduled first and Eleanor was surprised that it did not take more than about ten minutes. Then the small elderly Polish witch who had quite a reputation as a fierce dragon slayer stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Eleanor caught a few seemingly unflattering remarks in the professor's native tongue and the words "Stuck-up, arrogant pig, who does he think he is?" Then Professor Piotrofski had disappeared around a corner in the corridor. This did not bode well.

She got up and opened the heavy wood door to the interview room, surprised at the lack of nervousness she felt and at the amount of expectation and excitement at seeing him again. As she entered he rose from behind a parchment-strewn desk and came forward to meet her. He was as magnificent as she recalled him. For this occasion he had donned a dark coppery greatcoat with the top button undone. A taupe-grey neck scarf filled the gap and was held in place by a pin in the shape of two small interlacing snakes. He wore black wool pants tucked into a pair of obviously expensive hand-made knee-high boots, and his white-blond hair was gathered at the nape of his neck by a broad black velvet band. The sleeked-back look seemed to make his cheekbones appear more prominent. She cast a quick glace around. A black cloak, lined with copper astrakhan to match his coat lay over the back of a chair, as did a pair of black leather gloves. A black silver-tipped cane with a snake head for a grip leant against the backrest.

"Professor Sartorius," He stood before her now and held out his hand in greeting. As she took it to shake it he pulled her towards him and as before, during their first encounter, raised the back of her hand to his lips. To her annoyance she found herself holding her breath as he slowly and sensuously pressed his mouth onto her skin, leaving the slightest hint of moisture that cooled as he lifted his face, not before taking in the scent of her, as she could see by a quick flare of his nostrils. "The same intoxicating scent, I see," he murmured, as he reluctantly released her hand. His voice still had the strange mix of quiet silkiness and a somewhat raspy undertone. "Frankincense, benzoe and juniper, yes?"

He abruptly turned away from her and walked back to the desk. "Please, have a seat, my dear professor." She settled down in front of the desk and in looking up met with a sharp glance from him. "I had hoped to receive a reply for my message I owled you a few weeks ago," he stated. Oh, so his lordship was pissed off.

Well, that she could handle better than his snobbish small talk. She composed her features into a bland smile. "Oh, I just did not think that our brief encounter in June warranted any incursions on my part on your undoubtedly precious time. I very much appreciated the sentiments in your message and your kind offer of help, but I have had a perfect summer here at Hogwarts and could not have wished for any other amenities. So I did not feel that I should impose on you. My apologies, if I have been lacking in courtesy."

His face was now fixed in a scowl. Of course, she had just told him in the nicest and most polite terms that their first meeting with all his charm, his elaborate compliments and his subtle attempts at seduction had not made a very big impression on her. She was beginning to enjoy this.

"Very well," he said, his voice having shed some of its silkiness. "Let's get down to business, shall we? – Muggle studies? Why would a Sartorius elect to teach muggle studies?" He might as well have said grub studies or the studies of various kinds of mucus, the way he pronounced muggles, the corners of his mouth curling in a sneer. She leant back. "Well, as an old muggle saying goes, 'Know thine adversary.' It is also said that one should keep ones friends close and ones enemies even closer." She read surprise on his face, his left eyebrow arched towards his hairline.

"Please elaborate, Professor Sartorius." Obviously he had imagined her to express sympathy with the part of humanity that he despised above all others. She leant forward across the desk and steepled her hands before her. "For many centuries since the arrival of Christianity the relationship between the wizarding world and muggles has been somewhat strained, as you are undoubtedly aware. Before that, in ancient Egypt, during the days of the Roman empire and the Celtic kingdoms wizards and witches were the priests and leaders of the people, squibs sank back into the ranks of muggles, and gifted muggle children were apprenticed to the priests to be educated, just look at the way young druids were identified and trained as described by McCullum in _De educatio druidum_.

After the demise of the ancient religions our worlds drifted apart and the rift reached a peak during the Time of Burning and the Inquisition. Since then we have grown wary of muggles. The fact that their Enlightenment taught them not to believe in us any more helped us to stay hidden. My own family history shows me that they can still threaten us, though. As you know the Sartorius family originates from Cologne. During the 1940s my great-aunt Augusta Sartorius and her infant son were captured by the servants of the dictatorship that then ruled Germany. They were compelled to use their abilities in the service of muggles in order to fight the dictator's enemies. When they refused, they both perished horribly.

So as wizards and muggles still share the same plane of existence, if muggles are our enemies we must study them, and in so far as they associate with us – many of them have fathered very capable wizards and witches, we need to understand them. Knowledge is power, would you not agree with me, Mr. Malfoy? You strike me as a man who understands the dynamics of power very well."

The wizard behind the desk was looking at her intently through grey, hooded eyes. "I do, do I? Well, you may be right. I have never heard the case argued so convincingly, I must admit. Very well, brief me on your curriculum and your proposed approach." At that point the conversation became quite detailed and she was glad she had come prepared.

Part of her suspected that he simply used his questioning as a pretext to keep her with him as long as possible, but he now also seemed to be moved by genuine interest. He followed her explanation of muggle occupations and the structure of contemporary society with a mixture of fascination, disgust and an air of superiority. It seemed his inbred dislike and even hatred of muggles had prevented him from ever trying to find out much about them. Finally she seemed to have satisfied his curiosity.

He made some notes in one of the scrolls in front of him and then looked at her with a smile. "I believe your proposed curriculum has real merit and I will endorse your approach and recommend it to the board. As this is your first teaching assignment at Hogwarts, I shall monitor your progress very closely." She watched him hesitate for a brief moment and then get up and move around the desk to the chair that held his cloak. He briefly bent over and then straightened himself holding a small flat parcel elaborately wrapped in black silk paper. She got up as he approached her.

"I would like to close our official proceedings at this point," he said quietly, his voice having resumed its smooth, rich tone. "I have one more private matter that I need to take care of, though. Apparently you celebrated your birthday yesterday, so I thought it appropriate to mark the occasion with a present. I hope it pleases you." He slipped the parcel into her hands and looked at her expectantly. She paused, unsure whether it would be appropriate to accept a gift from a member of the board of governors. Knowing his reputation she also suspected that it would come with some strings attached. "Mr. Malfoy, I am not clear on whether it would be against the rules for me…" He interrupted her, voice silkier than ever. "Please, why so formal? As I said, the official part of the interview is over, so Lucius will do, if you would do me the honor."

She weighted the present in her hands. Its wrapping alone was a piece of art. The paper was subtly stamped with the Malfoy coat of arms, a twisted silver snake on black. The pale silver ribbon enclosing it was arranged in a delicate ruffle of bows that magically unraveled at her touch. "Lucius," she said, surprising herself with the quick stab of excitement she felt at speaking his first name. "Eleanor, then, please, if you will."

His arched mouth curved in a satisfied smile. "Eleanor," Her name seemed to melt on his tongue like some decadent sweet. He leaned in to her, his voice almost a whisper, his breath caressing her face. "If you have any qualms about a present from a member of the board of governors, we could simply decide that this was our little secret… Why don't you see what's inside first, before you judge?"

She peeled back the paper and held a book in her hand, bound in indigo cloth with a coat of arms on the front that she recognized immediately, a golden lion rampant above a small scorpion and the motto _vive lumine, disce opacum_. "This belonged to my family," she gasped. Her heart started to beat faster. "Hm," he had remained close to her, peering over her shoulder now. "Why don't you open it?"

She carefully lifted the cover and revealed the author and title on the first page. Falco Sartorius. _Ein neuzeitlicher Blick auf die sogenannten schwarzen Kuenste und ihre Anwendung_. Her grandfather had written this study on the dark arts, and while she had heard of the book, she had not been able to come across a copy, even though she had tried all summer as part of the research into her past and her forgotten family. "This is a priceless gift," she murmured, then lifted her head and turned to him. "What's the catch?"

Lucius Malfoy felt as if her last remark had slapped him right across the face. When he had picked the present from his own library he had merely tried to find an item that would be so irresistible to her that she would just have to feel grateful to him. And of course he had hoped the gratitude would ultimately be repaid in the currency of sexual favors. Now her blunt question had seemingly exposed his tenuous attempt of ensnaring her and he felt embarrassed and furious at being called on his plans.

He stepped away from her and drew himself up to his full height. "I don't know what is more annoying, your insufferable rudeness or…" To his surprise she moved in and laid her hand on his arm. "Lucius, don't insult the both of us with a mock fit of temper. I expected more from you. No one in their right minds picks a gift like this for a person they have only encountered once without any afterthoughts. Right now you are either insincere or you show a woeful disregard for your magical possessions. Well, which one is it?"

His thoughts were racing. It would not do to just say "Well, I hoped that if you really, really liked the book, you would let me fuck you." There had to be another way out of this. He relaxed his stance and made himself look into her eyes with what he hoped bore the semblance of contrition and sympathy. "The book is part of my library, but I felt that it belonged to you rather than to me. There must be precious few heirlooms left, the way your family was destroyed. And I cannot even read the treatise, as I don't speak German. The nature of the text did not encourage me to just employ a translator. Who knows what an outsider might make of the contents."

She stroked the book absentmindedly and for a moment he wished he was the battered volume, being smoothed, turned and caressed between her long, delicate fingers. When she finally met his gaze again, she looked disappointed. "Thank you, Lucius," she said quietly. "You know, you misjudge me. I don't mind wolves. Actually I have quite a soft spot for them. What I absolutely detest is sheep's clothing. I had hoped you would credit me with more capacity to handle the truth." She moved away from him.

This would never do. If anything his gift had now made a rift between them. He stepped up behind her. "Eleanor, what would you have me say?" he asked, shuddering at how needy that sounded. This was not going down at all as planned. She turned back quickly, almost bumping into him, not expecting him to be standing so close.

"Lucius, I know how my family perished. Falco was a Death Eater, when the Death Eaters were still an old and proud secret society of dark wizards and more than just the mere servants of Voldemort. He was a master of magic, both black and white, a man who followed his own will above all else. His two sons chose different paths, Wilhelm, my father, rejected magic and took his family to England. Conrad followed his father and continued the tradition.

But when Voldemort assimilated the Death Eaters my uncle and his family resisted to the death, and the German branch of the Sartorius ceased to exist. Do you know the Death Eaters loyal to Voldemort who tortured Conrad, Lena and their children? Your father most likely was among them. Did you ever think about how the book came to be in your possession? Voldemort's helpers must have divided the loot among them when they sacked my uncle's house. Now you give it back to me. Why?"

She was staring at him now, her green eyes boring into his grey, nostrils flaring. "Did you give the book back, because you wanted to atone for your father's deeds? Did you want to show me what your family is capable of? Was it meant as an insult? As a peace offering?"

He looked at her, briefly rendered speechless by what he saw. She was more beautiful than he could remember. For the formal occasion of the interview she had dressed in a long dark green velvet tunic that showed a subtle gold pattern of twining knotwork. The tunic fitted her torso snugly showing small high breasts and was unbuttoned from her slim waist down revealing long velvet clad legs and high soft suede leather boots that reached above her knees. Her red hair formed a wild shimmering mane around her face that was now flushed with emotion. Her chest heaved and she breathed through partly opened full lips.

"Eleanor," He reached out and grasped her hands that still held the cloth-bound volume. "I am sorry. When I chose the book I had not fully thought through how I came to have it, and what memories the gift would stir in you. I was happy to have found something that had meaning to you. I would not want to parade my father's deeds before you…"

He trailed off, what else could he say to make it up to her? While he racked his brains, she extricated her right hand that held the book and placed the volume on the desk. Then she took a hold of his left hand, and while he was still immobilized by her sudden touch, she murmured, "Excuse me," and pushed up the sleeve of his greatcoat. The pale skin of the underside of his forearm bore a faint, brown mark that looked like a scar left by a branding iron. It showed a skull with a serpent through its mouth.

He tore his arm out of her grasp, stepped back, but was surprised to see a small sad smile on her face. "You bear Voldemort's mark, you are one of his Death Eaters, just like your father. Don't worry, your secret, as far as it is a secret, is safe with me. I already suspected it. I just needed to see for myself." Lucius Malfoy glared at the woman facing him. What he had pursued as an exciting conquest, levels above the women he would normally snare by relying on his money, looks and power had turned out to be a formidable adversary who had unmasked his bland public persona in a few short, charged minutes.

He seriously contemplated what kind of spell he should use with her to undo the damage of her discovery, when she moved over to the old empty fire-place on the far side of the room. She pointed her wand and a small crackling fire started. Then she clapped and called in a clear voice: "Murry!" Presently the door opened and a small house elf stuck his face around the frame. "What can Murry do for mistress?" he squeaked.

"Lucius, why look so glum? I think we have much to talk about. Would you like some tea?" He snapped out of his contemplation of spells of forgetfulness and amnesia and stared at her. "What?!" "I told you I could handle the truth," she said lightly. "I just detest having the wool pulled over my eyes. So, shall we 'cut the crap', as a muggle would say, and talk this over?" He approached her cautiously, slowly, while she turned to the house elf once more.

"Murry, please be so good and bring us a pot and two cups." She looked back at Malfoy. "Milk? Sugar?" When he shook his head she sent the elf on his errant, seated herself in one of the chairs in front of the fire and patted the one opposite her in invitation. He walked like a man who attempts to sneak around a sleeping dragon as took the place she had offered him.

As they both looked into the fire in an effort to compose their thoughts, he wondered how the power structure of this meeting had so suddenly shifted. He had started out sitting behind his desk as a member of the board of governors in a position of authority, with her coming to him justifying her teaching agenda for the year. Now she told him where to sit and he had to look to her to find out how she would handle the information she had uncovered about him.

He was amazed to find that this reversal of roles excited him, despite it all. He felt challenged, and this struggle of knowledge and wills was very arousing. His lips twitched in a small smile when he realized he actually had already started to get some payback for his gift. He would enjoy sparring with her.

His train of thought got interrupted when the door creaked open once again and Murry, the house-elf came in with a tray and started pouring the tea. Malfoy's brows shot up in amazement when Eleanor took the cups from the large bony hands of the elf and thanked him before sending him on his way. The elf actually grinned at her and gave a little wave as he closed the door behind him. Extraordinary! One really did not thank house elves, did one?

He focused back on his companion as she handed him his cup of tea. Their hands brushed briefly. She leaned back to sip from her cup seemingly lost in thoughts, and finally he broke the silence. "What do you plan to do? From what you are telling me, my family has exterminated your family. I am no better than my father and we should be sworn enemies. All of this puts you squarely in the camp of the do-gooders at the Ministry of Magic, who coddle mudbloods and would banish all use of the dark arts. When are you going to turn me it?" She crossed her legs.

"Not at all," she said evenly. "You must understand this about my family: we would be blacklisted as followers of the dark arts ourselves, if we were still around. Here is what I believe." She took another sip and composed her thoughts. "I think magic works as two halves of a whole, there is a white, rational, active, side to it, and a dark, instinctive, passive side. The ancient masters of the craft knew this and kept the balance. Neither of the two sides is inherently good or bad.

During the last hundred years we have broken the covenant between the light and the dark side. Two camps have formed and they are fighting each other, maintaining that white magic is goodness and the dark arts are evil. Voldemort is just a personification of drives that were around before. I empathize with the practitioners of the dark arts. If the Death Eaters were still the wizards they used to be during the time of my grandfather, I would probably be one myself. But I hate the perversion Voldemort has forced on us. Being a wizard should be first and foremost about realizing your supreme will, your inner potential. But look at yourself."

She paused, feeling surprised that anger was welling up in her. "That – abomination on your arm, that mark! It looks like he branded you. You know what humans used to brand in this way? Slaves and cattle! You are the heir of one of the oldest English houses and you suffer yourself to be branded by some mudblood upstart and serve him instead of yourself. It's a disgrace!"

Her voice had become stern and accusatory. She had taken a calculated risk there, knowing very well that she had spoken to provoke him. She had appealed to his sense of aristocratic superiority, spoken within his frame of reference and she had certainly achieved a result. Crimson red rose in the cheeks of the man sitting across her. His full sensuous mouth had compressed into a thin line of fury, his free hand gripped the armrest of his chair. "You are forgetting yourself, witch!" he hissed. "One more word and you will see what I am really capable of."

She laid her hand on the wand stuck in her belt to show him she was prepared to defend herself. "Then prove me wrong," she challenged him. "Voldemort's father was one plain Mr. Riddle, a muggle, even though his mother was descended in direct line from Salazar Slytheryn. Voldemort did not live by the first rule of wizardry, and you are bearing a mark that brands you as his, that subjugates you to his will, or could you remove it if you wished? Where am I neglecting the truth?"

He stared at her, fighting for control. "You don't know the half of it," he said sharply. "The dark arts were as nothing before Voldemort came along. The power, the exultation, the mastery he showed us! Nothing compares to what is promised us once he can assume his full lordship of this plane of existence. You would do well to associate yourself with us. Once we have restored him he would welcome the heiress of Sartorius with open arms and would honor you among his faithful followers. So don't pass judgment on what you have not experienced for yourself and what you must be ignorant of."

She relaxed her grasp on her wand and leaned back. "An impasse," she sighed. "I do not think we will convince each other this easily. However, I will give your opinion some thought, if you at least agree to give my view of affairs some credit. Would that be acceptable?" He had not thought of it when he had planned their meeting, but now he had a fleeting impression of introducing her into his inner circle. She would be by his side, wearing the dark robes and mask. He would stand behind her as she spoke the oath of the Death Eaters and received the mark and they would be truly joined. What a goal to strive for! What a prize to bring to the Dark Lord! His anger evaporated. She would join his bed and his struggle for power, the abilities of the Malfoys and the Sartorius combined. They should be invincible.

Eleanor saw the shift of thoughts in him, he seemed to relax while another kind of excitement apparently got a hold of him, that was not anger. She tried to fathom his reaction, but his gaze had become unreadable. Inexplicably he backed off, his voice falling back into the smooth silkiness of his superior polite style. "Certainly," he said. "You are a witch of the great houses and of uncommon insight. I should always consider and value your opinion." Then he steered their exchange into a conversation on her summer at Hogwarts and onto other small-talk topics.

She chatted quite amicably, but he could see that part of her had become disengaged from the meeting. It seemed time to wrap things up and allow her to mull everything over. Now how for a way to ensure a new encounter? He had to see her again, preferably outside of Hogwarts, where there were too many listening ears and curious eyes for his taste.

As they both rose to conclude their appointment an idea struck him. "You know, Eleanor, you were right, I had one catch in mind when I gave you your present: I am very curious as to its content. Would you be interested in sharing your research and findings with me? I would love to meet at your convenience and discuss your opinions of the book. Would you owl me when your feel ready? I could arrange for a meeting in my library, where we would be at liberty to talk freely."

She had moved over to the desk to pick up her grandfather's book and turned to him, clearly undecided. He used the time to tidy up the parchments he had been working on, watching her under lowered lids. Finally she straightened with a resolve. "I would like that," she said, and he felt a sharp jolt of exultation. "I am so glad you decided to meet me again. I think our conversation would be very profitable to both of us." She gave him a quizzical look. "Next time round, though, let's not waste so much time on subterfuge," she said. "I do value your honesty, even if I may not agree with all of your opinions. You are a man of uncommon intellectual abilities. – And thank you for my wonderful birthday present."

He bowed, pleased with her frank compliment and shrugged into his cloak. Before he put on his gloves he again kissed her hand for goodbye and watched her leave the room, her long tunic swishing behind her. Then he rolled up his paperwork, picked up his cane and used his wand to perform the necessary magical gestures to reapparate in his study at Malfoy Manor. All in all, the meeting had gone much better than expected.


	4. Pleasure and Pain

**Pleasure and Pain**

_"Fortis vero, dolorem summum malum judicans; aut temperans, voluptatem summum bonum statuens, esse certe nullo modo potest.__ - No man can be brave who thinks pain the greatest evil; nor temperate, who considers pleasure the highest god." (Marcus Tullius Cicero)  
  
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A harsh clap from his hands brought out three house-elves who presently cowered around him, took his cloak, pulled off his boots and carried his cane. He kept hold of the bundle of parchment he had brought with him, slid into a pair of beaked leather slippers and walked over into his dressing room while unbuttoning his greatcoat. One of the elves scrambled nervously onto a dresser and opened the snake pin on his neck scarf, another caught the coat as Malfoy flung it off. He stretched languidly before the floor-length mirror, looking at himself and taking stock.

A half-naked tall, blond, pale-skinned man stared back at him out of heavy-lidded grey eyes. His body was powerful, lean and well-muscled. Blond hair a few shades darker pooled at the center of his chest and curled up between his collar bones. Black pants hung low on his narrow hips and revealed a thin smoke-trail of hair snaking down from his flat oval belly button. He reached behind him and pulled off the velvet band that held his hair together, shook out his blond mane until it flowed around his shoulders and twisted his lips in an arrogant smirk. Not bad. He was sure that Eleanor Sartorius could not have failed to be favorably impressed.

'Eleanor, what am I going to do with you?' he mused as he smoothed his hand over his hair and sauntered over to his wardrobe where he picked out a black silk housecoat and flung it over his shoulders, not bothering to belt the luxurious fabric that caressed his naked skin. This had really been different. As he had got ready for the meeting he had half expected that the impression she had made on him that afternoon in June would be eradicated, that it had been some magic of the moment caused by a combination of disparate and fleeting coincidences. After all, she hadn't even replied to his message shortly after the encounter. On second sight she would probably be plainer than he recalled, less vivacious, less engaging or intelligent. In fact, he had half expected to meet an unappreciative and unresponsive bore. He had prepared meticulously but had also been ready for disappointment.

But then disappointment had been the last thing on his mind as she had entered the room. She had looked very different from the laughing barefooted woman in a blue dress that had almost danced before him over the pavement, her hair tossed by the warm summer breeze, that had charmed him so the first time. She had been darker, sterner, sharper somehow, even in the clothes she had picked. And then her conversation had stripped him bare. She had uncovered his secrets and alliances with the mere deduction from a birthday present.

Any other witch or wizard who was not a Death Eater would have suffered for this impertinence. Any other witch or wizard would have run straight to the Ministry as well, but she had in essence sympathized with him. They only disagreed on the merits of the Dark Lord, but he was sure he would be able to win her over. She was a self-declared adept of the dark arts who had proclaimed herself the heiress of Falco Sartorius. She was a prize unlike any he had come across before. For a moment he allowed himself to consider what would have happened if his father had chosen her for his wife instead of murdering her relatives. They would have been magnificent! She would have been as a queen by his side.

Well, the day had been a success, not in the least because of what he had been able to bring home with him. He walked back to the dresser and carefully lifted a folded up piece from the bundle of papers. As he pulled it apart it revealed two vivid copper strands of hair. As she had left the room, he had picked them from the upholstered back of the chair in which she had been sitting.

He snapped a command to one of the house-elves to bring his skrying bowl filled with water and to set up candles in his study. Then he picked a blue glass bottle from a wall cabinet and dripped some of the contents on a small piece of silk. He sniffed the cloth and took a deep breath. Frankincense, benzoe and juniper. The only thing missing was the subtle essence of the raw scent of her skin. She had been careless enough to tell him the secret of her fragrance and had given him a powerful way to attune himself to her.

As he stepped through to his study he saw the glimmer of candles and found his skrying bowl set out. He snipped off a small fragment of her hair and let it float in the water, then he called for the elf to bring his cane. He pulled his wand from it, sat down so he could gaze into the still mirror of water, inhaled the fragrance he had prepared and moved the wand over the bowl, murmuring the appropriate incantations. A while later a misty film seemed to form over the bowl, as he intently stared into it, and when it cleared he saw into Professor Sartorius' room.

She was sitting at her desk, a squat glass a quarter full of deep amber liquid by her side, and read in the book he had given her. With some satisfaction he noted that she had very carefully folded the black wrapping paper and placed the silver bow in a neat pile on top of it. He forced the water mirror around so he could study her face and found her intent on the text in the book, murmuring spells and other sentences in German, scribbling notes in brown ink on fresh sheets of parchment.

While she was busy he decided to take a look around her quarters. Her study was a square spacious room lined with bookshelves interrupted only by a fireplace, a door leading to a narrow entrance hall, another leading off to what had to be her bedroom and two tall windows. Her heavy desk was pushed up to the left window and just left space for a broad windowsill that held a few potted plants, which seemed to be part of Professor Sprout's more adventurous breeding experiments. The other window had an inglenook seat built into it where a beautiful slim-boned Siamese cat was cleaning herself lazily atop some silk pillows.

Lucius directed his gaze further into the room and through the doorway into her bedroom. He looked into a slightly narrower chamber with a large four-poster bed in the center. Indigo-blue muslin curtains shrouded a flat mattress with a silk comforter and a single pillow in the same color. At the back of the room one wall was almost entirely covered by an old worm-eaten carved oak wardrobe. The room also contained a small easy chair with a low side table, and a dresser as ancient and well-worn as the wardrobe. He was sure that apart from the sensuous textiles that sported the background color of the Sartorius family crest and also covered the window, the rest of the contents of the room were Hogwarts property. Sartorius had still managed to give the room a touch of her own by placing golden-yellow beeswax candles on several surfaces and hanging some rare old alchemistical and astrological drawings and prints on the walls.

A rustling noise made Malfoy jump and he almost lost the connection, when the object of his skrying attempts walked into the room. She was squeezing the bridge of her nose between her fingers and closed her eyes. In her other hand she carried the glass that had been sitting on her desk. She walked right through the bedroom and through him and out of a door next to the wardrobe. He directed his viewpoint to follow her and entered her bathroom behind her. Again the décor and furnishings were old, rickety and rather primitive. A large claw-foot bathtub stood in one corner and she pulled up a wood stool on which she placed her drink. Then she lit several candles, opened the only faucet he could see, and the tub slowly started to fill with water.

'My, my! – Ice cold bath,' Malfoy mused. 'I didn't think things are going this badly for you, my dear.' In the meantime she had returned to the bedroom and loosened her belt that held a narrow sheath for her wand and a purse for other personal and magical items. With bated breath Malfoy watched her unbutton her tunic and reveal nothing but a small lace-edged black bra beneath. She next sat down on the edge of the chair and pulled off her boots and socks and slipped out of her skintight velvet pants. As she turned to hang the trousers and tunic in the wardrobe, Malfoy got a good glimpse of her panties, a small triangle of cloth covering her in front, a mere string of black fabric separating the smooth, pert butt cheeks. 'Holy Hecate!' If he had spent more time on muggle studies, he would have known that he had just for the first time in his life encountered a thong. As it was, the sight took him by surprise and seriously screwed with his abilities of concentration, which are unfortunately essential to successful skrying.

He started counting down the geomantic figures in an effort to distract himself from the pulsating bulge that strained his trousers, but couldn't remember further than _fortuna__ maior_. Suddenly Sartorius' ice-cold bath seemed like a really, really good idea. Of course from now on things could only get worse as the target of his magic shed her bra and the superbly inventive underpants and flung them into a hamper together with her socks.

She now revealed herself completely naked and he saw to his amazement that in the tradition of the ancient Egyptian priestesses she had carefully removed every single hair on her body revealing perfectly velvet smooth pale-honey skin on her every curve and hollow. His breath took on a decidedly labored note. She was mind-blowingly gorgeous in every respect. He loved long, slim legs, liked his chests rather less well endowed, but pert and youthful looking and enjoyed the sight of a flat taut stomach that showed the sickle shapes of hipbones. She satisfied completely.

As if she knew about his escapade as a voyeur she seemed to be bent on torturing him and now stretched languidly right in front of his eyes, a cinnamon-colored perky nipple almost grazing him if he had been present in the flesh. He heard the delicate crack of vertebrae in her spine and the soft satisfied sigh that escaped her lips as she felt the tension ease out of her muscles. 'Keep it together, Lucius,' he admonished himself as the demands of his own body threatened to jeopardize his ability to maintain the connection to Sartorius' room.

She walked over to the bed and removed the wand from its sheath. Then she entered the bathroom and switched off the faucet. "Fervefacio," she commanded, pointing her wand at the tub, and immediately he could see wisps of steam rising from the water. 'Neat trick,' he thought, and then watched her as she retrieved several odd shaped glass bottles from a shelf above the tub and poured some of their contents into her bath. A light golden mist shimmered above the surface and the water seemed to glow from the depths of the tub. She replaced the bottles, rolled up her hair into a bun that she fastened irreverently by abusing her wand as a hairstick, hung a towel next to the bath and stepped into the warm and inviting water. With a sigh she sank down and reached for her glass for a deep sip. Then she grew still and closed her eyes, and with little new developments to witness and to distract him, Malfoy's discomfort became so intense that he contemplated ending the skrying session and taking care of his own needs. This was more than even a wizard could bear.

Just as he lifted his right hand from adjusting his pants and reached for his wand to properly sever the connection, he heard a little gurgle of water and saw that she had moved. He replaced his palms on the rim of the bowl and watched as she started to glide her hands over her body. What first had seemed an almost involuntary motion soon became purposeful as she started to stroke her breasts until her nipples stiffened, despite the warmth of the water. She did not open her eyes, but he saw her tongue snake out and lick over her lips. Then she slowly moved her head from side to side and began to caress her stomach and the insides of her thighs. Her legs fell apart against the sides of the tub and her hands reached down to touch her water-slicked lips and her center. Malfoy positioned himself at the foot of the tub and had a perfect view of her fingers getting busy in earnest.

She started rubbing and stroking herself with one hand while her other spread her apart, and as she increased the speed of her efforts he heard her breath escape her full lips in short hissing gasps and moans while her sweat-sheened face flushed pink. She could not be far off now, as her whole body began to tremble and heave, sending several heavy flood waves of water over the edge of the tub. Then she arched back her head, shuddered as her climax gripped her and let out a stifled half-articulate cry of "Lucius!"

Malfoy almost swept his skrying bowl off the table in surprise as the sound of his name hit him. Great Goddess Isis!

The next second several things happened at the same time. The skrying image paled and wobbled as Sartorius enjoyed the slow ebb of her passion oblivious to the rather sizeable shock she had caused, and as Lucius' grasp on reality adjusted itself with a few jolts. Just then a jabbering house elf bolted into the room followed by a big, evil-eyed black owl. The wizard swung around at the racket, tangling the sleeves of his robe, and the bowl finally went flying, drenching the owl and the elf. "Master, master," howled the elf. "Please, it's a summons, master! Dobby said you were busy…" The owl shook itself and flapped up onto the table where it dropped a piece of parchment and then took off with a disgusted screech.

Malfoy kicked the elf that stood pawing at his calf begging for mercy half across the room and unfurled the message. A Death Eater summons and now. He muttered every curse he could remember from his extensive study of grimoires, causing several spiders in the room to die slow agonizing deaths. Then he snarled at the elf. "Bring me my dark robes and mask and ready the broom. Hurry, or you will be very sorry!"

Unfortunately the poor elf was already a nervous wreck and it took him quite some time to get the boots back on Malfoy's legs and the complicated dark robes arranged in the appropriate fashion. "Look," the wizard finally hissed at him. "Stop cringing, you oaf, I'm not going to kick you again, just concentrate on your job. You can put your head through the lead-glass window in the dining room after I am gone. And remember to tidy up the mess afterwards." "Yes master," sniffled the unfortunate servant and handed Lucius his mask.

He strode out of the room and down the stairs and grabbed the broom that another trembling elf held out to him in the high entrance hall. The broom was an old, large and bristly ebony-carved family heirloom. The handle showed a design of flying snakes in silver intaglio and Malfoy winced as he stood on the front steps of his manor and put the broom between his legs.

It was rumored that witches quite often derived considerable pleasure from flying, but for wizards the whole affair proved to be a rather uncomfortable business at the best of times. Actually it was rumored that despite the risks involved quiddich players frequently used a numbing spell. Right now his need to fly to the Death Eater meeting for security reasons, rather than being able to simply apparate seemed particularly annoying. Attempting to ride a broom while suffering from the worst case of blue-balls imaginable was not a pleasant prospect at all. He would be glad for his Death Eater mask hiding his pain-wracked features later on. With a hiss he lifted into the air over rural Wiltshire and continued cursing softly at every gust that shook the broom, leaving a trail of failed crops, barren livestock and soured milk in his path.


	5. Between Two Chairs

**Between Two Chairs**

_"Any fool can tell the truth, but it requires a man of some sense to know how to lie well." (Samuel Butler)_

The last two weeks of August passed in a blaze of hot, sun-drenched days, but Lucius kept to the cool dark of his study. He had much to consider. The last Death Eater meeting had been instructive and had posed as many questions as it had answered. With his usual flair for the dramatic and macabre George Lepidus, their leader and an old associate of his father's had summoned them to a forgotten crypt in central London. He remembered waiting with the others in the musty, humid dark, his feet crunching over the bones of the dead every time he moved, his mind still filled with images of a gorgeous redhead witch stroking herself to a fine frenzy to what had to have been a fantasy of himself.

Finally Lepidus had arrived, after making them wait, as usual. He had led them into a vaulted circular room, and after some spells for light had been cast, he had thrown a bundle of papers onto the stone table in the center. "My agent in Budapest recovered these at an auction last week," he said. The black masked faces turned to the chief wizard. "What are they," Lucius asked. Lepidus had looked at him. "Letters written by one of the great wizards of the age, Falco Sartorius." Sartorius – again – he had heard that name much too often recently. It seemed that more than coincidence had to be at work here.

Lepidus faced the group and continued. "It seems that Sartorius did something a few months before his death that could help us in our efforts to resurrect our master. In one of the letters I acquired he boasts to his son Wilhelm that he has been able to actually attain that most elusive of alchemistical achievements, the production of a viable homunculus." "How is that helping us with the Dark Lord?" asked one of the Death Eaters. Lucius recognized the thick, raspy voice of Vincent Crabbe. The man was as big as he was stupid, and Lepidus shot him a contemptuous glance through the eye-slits of his mask.

"A homunculus is a tiny human shell, soulless, yet alive. After its production it will survive in its hermetically sealed vial forever. But when the seal is broken, the homunculus needs to be fed with human blood for 40 days, all the while growing and aging rapidly. Blood from a man will result in a male, from a woman in a female. When the time has come a soul or spirit can then be transferred or infused into the shape and the homunculus will live as a human being."

There were excited comments from the witches and wizards. "Silence," commanded Lepidus. "We do not have the homunculus. We merely know that one was produced. Unfortunately the demise of the Sartorius family has made it difficult for us to locate any of their effects. Much was destroyed when we last attacked them. The rest of their possessions was scattered to the winds." Suddenly Lepidus had turned round and stared at Lucius. "We have had an interesting development recently, though. Have we not, Malfoy? Why don't you enlighten us?" He could still recall the sudden stab of irrational fear that shot through him. It was clear what Lepidus was referring to. Yet, he found he was more than reluctant to speak, to reveal what he knew.

"Well, it seems that Hogwarts has a new professor of muggle studies, a witch by the name of Eleanor Sartorius," he said, hoping that he would not have to elaborate. The chief Death Eater had suddenly moved forward, bringing his masked face right next to his, and it had taken all of his self-possession not to take a surprised step back. "And when were your planning to share this bit of information with us?" The question was no more than a quiet and threatening hiss.

Lucius thought quickly. "Lepidus, I already interviewed her on behalf of the school board. She is a useless disgrace to her illustrious family. Her parents raised her as a muggle. Muggle studies is all she knows. She would not recognize a homunculus if it bit her. Finally, I have only found out just now that we even have an interest in the Sartorius family. I really do object to your insinuations that I have been failing in my duties."

Lepidus turned away from the blond wizard with a snarl. "Everything you know is of interest to me. So don't make any excuses. Sometimes I really wonder how you could be your father's son." Then he had addressed the group. "Here is our plan. I will take four of you and we will go to Hungary and Germany. I know the trail is cold, but we need to start in Cologne. My agent has already managed to detain the muggle who offered the letters for sale. We will find out what he knows and take it from there.

Malfoy, the Sartorius woman is your responsibility– I have had reports that you have quite a reputation with that sort of thing. Seduce her, fuck her, torture her, I don't care, but find out what she knows and what she doesn't know. If the homunculus went to England with her parents, we have to use her to locate it."

Lucius had flown home in a daze. He had lied to George Lepidus, their leader, a man of even more ruthless cruelty than his father, second perhaps only to Lord Voldemort himself. He had lied to protect Eleanor Sartorius. Though he had tried to tell himself that he had really lied to protect his interest in her as a conquest, even he didn't buy his own arguments. He had looked into Lepidus' glittering eyes behind the mask and he had felt pure, stomach churning fear for her.

Now he was sitting by himself in his study trying to figure out how to get out of the whole mess without Lepidus finding out about his deception and without Eleanor getting hurt. Ideally he would obtain the information about the homunculus from her, she would not realize that she had been played and he would still manage to get laid in the process. Ideally…

In the meantime he was reading up on everything he could find on the arcane art of producing homunculi. If they could find the Sartorius specimen, they could rehouse Voldemort's disembodied spirit, and the destruction that the Dark Lord's encounter with the Potter family had caused would be reversed. The reward and prestige for the wizard or witch who managed to restore Voldemort would be immense. No wonder Lepidus was on edge.

So Lucius spent his days and nights in his study and library, buried among alchemy texts and taking a little time off now and then to cook up some vorax potion. He wanted to be prepared for Sartorius' next visit, and a little aphrodisiac never hurt. After all, Borgin's _caput mortuum_ had been first rate, as usual, and he might as well put it to some good use. Occasionally he set out his skrying bowl and checked up on Eleanor until he ran out of hair. However, he did not have as much luck as he had during his first attempt and saw her mostly either sleeping or working. He found himself waiting for her owl as the days passed. When would she come and see him?

* * *

Summer finally came to an end, and the Hogwarts Express arrived from London. Eleanor had finished translating her grandfather's book and knew that she would not be able to delay her visit to Malfoy Manor much longer. The start of the school year, however, provided her with a welcome excuse to take a few more days to consider. The longer she postponed her encounter the more conflicted she became about it.

Part of her was impatient at seeing Lucius again. It was the part that entertained a strong suspicion that this time the official part of the interview would be very short indeed, and even the study of Falco's treatise would not be the main activity of the evening. She had been by herself for well over six months now, and had reached a point where her imagination and her own hands just didn't seem to be enough any more.

From a physical perspective Lucius Malfoy was a safe and sure bet. The man looked like he knew what he was doing in bed. He would most likely be a superb lover, and as he was married, as she had found out, he was going to keep things discrete and contained. He had no more interest in making this emotional or complicated or public than she had. She didn't want a relationship, not while so many other questions in her life were open, but some mind-blowing recreational sex would be perfect.

The rational and ethical part of her, on the other hand, grew more and more apprehensive. She was playing a game that was both dangerous and reprehensible. Her history and family loyalty should prevent her from ever considering a Malfoy as anything other than an enemy. He was a follower of Voldemort and as such both ruthless and dangerous and ultimately would not have her interest at heart at all.

A small voice inside her told her that even without any emotional involvement she could still get hurt and her reputation at Hogwarts could be destroyed. Sleeping around with one of the governors would be enough for that. But there was the old Sartorius allure of the dangerous and forbidden. Her grandfather had had it, and right now it made her want Lucius Malfoy even more.

So she sat through the feast and sorting ceremony on the start of term evening, got on with her first week of lessons and found that she actually enjoyed teaching kids, and finally, during the second week sat down and wrote a short letter to Lucius, selected a bird from the owlery and released it before she had time to think it over yet again. The answer arrived the same evening, delivered by his familiar eagle owl. She was in her room going over her teaching materials and now looked at the small, unmarked parchment-wrapped packet that her messenger had left behind. The thick vellum came easily apart in her hands and revealed a folded letter and a flat oval object wrapped in black silk paper.

As she peeled back the silk paper she held what appeared to be a twisted piece of silver jewelry in her fingers. She was just bending her head to examine it closer when she almost dropped it with a soft cry of surprise. The silver began to slide and move like liquid mercury, and she saw two small glittering snakes with lifelike scales and eyes lift their faces at her, flick out tiny silver tongues to taste her skin and then slither around until they had formed a bracelet around her right wrist. Two smaller snakes that were attached to the bracelet by thin delicate silver chains slipped down the back of her hand and formed a perfectly fitting ring.

As soon as the jewelry had adjusted itself the snakes seemed to petrify. She lifted her hand and examined her gift from all sides. The workmanship was exquisite, and the magical properties were unlike anything she had seen before. Lucius' taste as usual was beyond reproach. Next she reached out with her snake-encircled hand and picked up the folded note.

"Dear Eleanor,

I am delighted to hear that your studies of your grandfather's legacy have come to a satisfying close and look forward to sharing your insights with you as far as you would like to discuss them with me. It will be an honor to welcome you to my house and to make you feel welcome in every way. I am sending you a portkey that I hope will be to your taste. Please accept it as a gift. The activation spell is 'abraxas'. I am expecting you this Friday at around 7 and hope that the time is convenient for you.

Always, Lucius"

It was Thursday night already, so tomorrow would be the day. Her heart beat faster. Suddenly it seemed there was no time at all. However, she could understand why Lucius had picked the day before a Saturday when there would be no classes. If he had the same things in mind as she had, it would be nice not to have to be up at dawn to teach. She hoped that if everything went according to plan she would be far too tired for that. Unable to go to sleep just yet, she started on the preparations. After a thoughtful glance at her bracelet she decided a return gift was finally in order. She did not want to create the impression that Lucius had bought her in any way.

As she looked over her room her eyes fell on the leather bound notebook that now held her handwritten translation of her grandfather's grimoire. She raised her eyebrows. Giving a book on the dark arts to a confirmed black wizard was like pouring oil on fire. But as she thought back to what she had translated, she decided that would be less risky than it sounded. Her ancestor had really not described a lot of new spells and curses, but rather looked at old practices and found substitutions for ingredients and procedures that had become rarer and rarer as civilization developed. Recipes, for example, that called for body parts of hanged felons to be collected from gibbets at the new moon just were not easily obtained these days, though rumor at school had it that there were still only few things that could not be had through _Borgin and Burke's_ in Knockturn Alley in London.

So if Lucius decided to use dried blood from a bloodbank mixed with myrrh and natron and some bone meal from a local muggle gardening center instead of Egyptian _caput mortuum_, for example, that would be just fine, and it would suit muggle Egyptologists as well.

She placed a new empty notebook on top of her translation and pulled out her wand. "Scriptum duplico" she murmured, making a copy. She wrote a short dedication on the fly-leaf, signed it and wrapped the present. She also picked out some clothes to wear for the following night: a floor-long, low-cut black velvet dress with flared sleeves that had insets in burnt-out flame colored velvet. She knew it fitted her very well and hoped that it would be sufficiently striking. She hung the dress outside her wardrobe, selected a matching cloak and set out a pair of black, pointed shoes. Ready. Now she could just change after dinner on Friday and use the portkey.

Finally she took a long look at her bracelet. It was too elaborate to wear to school and would certainly draw attention and comments. However, the snakes fit her quite snugly and there was no way to just slip the jewelry off. She thoughtfully rubbed along the shiny silver scales. "Come on, off with you," she whispered and was surprised to see the snakes unfreeze and very obediently slither off her hand and arrange themselves into a little sliver knot on her desk.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy got welcome news on Friday morning. An owl arrived from the Black residence and informed him that Narcissa planned to stay with her family for another three weeks. With the exception of the feasts at Midsummer and Lammas that were already over, the round of social engagements only started back up in October anyway, so there really was no need for her to be back just yet. Lucius suspected that she wanted to make the most of her time until Draco attended Hogwarts and there would be no need to employ a private tutor any more.

As far as he was concerned she was welcome to her affair. That meant no one would be around to cramp his style with Eleanor. He would even be able to show her around the place for a bit. A witch of the old houses would surely appreciate the traditions of a place like Malfoy Manor. He spent the rest of the day preparing for her visit.

By evening the house elves were quivering, fearful bundles of misery, but the manor was spotlessly perfect from attic to dungeons. Soft candlelight illuminated the library, and some of the most treasured books were seemingly casually laid out on reading tables for his guest to inspect. Comfortable chairs were pulled up, the fireplaces cleaned and lit and wine waited in coolers and decanters. Lucius finally stood in his bedroom and cast a critical glance at his surroundings.

He felt less assured of a successful seduction than he had on many other occasions, which he found quite irritating. But if he was honest with himself he had to admit that the heiress of Sartorius was not just your average witch. She wanted him, he was certain, but she was also proud and intelligent, she would want him on her terms, not necessarily on his. Money and status would not impress her, as her own family provided the latter, and a reliable source at _Gringotts_ had informed him that she was not lacking the former. The fact that he was now also on a mission for the Death Eaters to gather information about the homunculus didn't help matters at all.

Best to concentrate on the task at hand. He had the house elves set out candles and prepare some incense burners with her favorite scents, cover the bed with new black silk sheets, light the fireplace and set out some bottles of massage oils. As he looked around his eyes fell on the vorax potion. For a moment he thought to perhaps use it to spike some of the wine, but then dismissed that approach. He was not going to resort to silly ploys that had served him in his teens. He would offer her some, if the situation allowed it, but it would be her choice.

Finally he decided the only thing left would be to get ready himself. He managed to relax with the help of a bath, used a spell to dry his hair and then walked over to his dressing room to pick out his clothes for the evening. He wanted something more casual than the attire he had worn to their previous meetings. After some deliberation he settled on a grey silk shirt unbuttoned at the throat, a knee-long waistcoat, cut from black damask silk and a pair of black pants. He walked over to the library, picked up a copy of the _Daily Prophet_, poured himself a glass of claret and settled down to wait.


	6. A Memorable Friday Night

**A Memorable Friday Night**

_"The desire of love is to give. The desire of lust is to get." (Proverb)_

Eleanor finished a light dinner in the great hall and tried to concentrate on Madam Hooch discussing some of the more arcane rules of quiddich with Professor Flitwick. The four houses had already managed good line-ups this term and it was promising to be an exciting year of matches. Fortunately Professor Snape got in on the conversation and tried to make a strong point for a Slytheryn win at the end of the year, which was hotly debated by Professor Flitwick, so she could afford to let her concentration drift.

As she sipped a cup of tea for dessert she felt that Albus Dumbledore seemed to be looking in her direction a few times, but every time she glanced over he was talking to Minerva McGonagal. Nerves, she told herself and was glad when the bell announced the end of dinner and she could walk back to her room accompanied by a whole troop of Ravenclaw students who discussed their plans of going to Hogsmeade for the weekend.

Back in her quarters she hurried to get ready. A quick wash, change of clothes and brush through her hair seemed sufficient. She fastened a low-slung belt around her hips, put her wand in its sheath, selected a thin black velvet choker with a silver knotwork design and stretched her hand over her desk to have her portkey snakes arrange themselves around her wrist. Finally she was ready. She wrapped up her notebook with her translation, and stepped into the middle of her room. "Abraxas," she said in a commanding voice and felt the portkey whisk her away. Seconds later she found herself in a high, candle-lit room surrounded by bookshelves.

Lucius Malfoy sat in a chair at the far end of the room by the fireplace and now got up and folded a newspaper he had been reading. She watched him as he placed the paper behind him, stretched and walked towards her to greet her. Flames were dancing off the pale gold of his hair and he looked at her with a smile that seemed to even reach his grey eyes. "Eleanor," he called out, and then grasped her hands as he stood before her. "I am delighted to see you. I hope your apparition was comfortable?"

She found it easy to smile back as he lifted her right hand to inspect his gift. "Perfect, Lucius. This is the most beautiful portkey I could imagine." He gently turned her wrist to look at the snakes. "Yes, they seem to like you," he murmured in that silky, intimate voice she knew so well by now. "Then again, I don't think they ever had a more beautiful owner. Your appearance is a delightful surprise every time we meet." In his usual lingering fashion he finally kissed her hand before he released her.

"May I offer you anything?" he asked. "I have just received a shipment of red wine from Hungary that you might like." She agreed and felt his hand at the small of her back as he stepped to her side and gently led her back to the fireplace. She took a look around while he poured a crystal goblet of wine for her. The library seemed very old with carefully waxed honey-colored oak wood floors and ceiling-high shelves made from the same material. She wished she could lock herself up in here for a few weeks and explore. This room held probably as much arcane knowledge as the old library at Hogwarts, though it would be of a somewhat darker nature. High west-facing windows caught the golden rays of a rich September sunset over what seemed to be a well-tended, elegant English garden.

"Here you are," Lucius voice pulled her back from her observations as he handed her a beautifully cut glass filled with velvet-black wine. He lifted a similar goblet to hers and toasted her. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Eleanor." She looked at him, green eyes meeting grey. "Thank you for inviting me," she answered and drank. The wine tasted of rain-soaked earth, apple blossoms and cloves. She watched his throat move as he swallowed and felt an odd dark excitement course through her. "Oh, and I have something for you, this time." She pulled out the parcel she carried and handed it to him. He sat down his glass and took the book from her. She watched his long hands as he carefully stripped the paper and inspected the pages.

When he looked up at her, she read surprise in his eyes. "You made a handwritten translation for me." He read the inscription on the fly-leaf.

"To Lucius Malfoy, May you know the shadow but live in the light. Always, Eleanor Sartorius."

He lifted an eyebrow. "That is a translation of your family's motto, _vive lumine, disce opacum_." He gently closed the notebook. "It is a beautiful and priceless gift. I did not expect that you would want to share the full knowledge of the book with me. I am truly grateful." She took another sip of the wine. "I am intending to publish, actually. I think that some of my grandfather's recommendations will make life less – hazardous – for unsuspecting muggles. As long as we are practicing the dark arts, that may be a benefit. At the very least we'll fly under the Ministry of Magic's radar, or their laws can't touch us."

He tilted his head as if he wanted to question her motivation, obviously protecting muggles was not very high on the Malfoy agenda, then thought better of it and put down the book. "I am sorry, I forgot," he suddenly said. "Your cloak, I haven't even asked you to take it off. Dobby!!" he called over his shoulder.

Presently a depressed-looking house elf in an old ratty pillow case came scuttling in and Lucius stepped behind her, lifted the heavy wool fabric off her shoulders and passed it to the elf who staggered slightly under his load as he left the library. "Why don't you have a seat, we could move over to this table and take a look at the translation while you tell me about the book. I noticed the original had quite a few rather curious diagrams."

He picked up the book and his glass and she followed him to a broad reading table, admiring the easy, powerful grace of his movements. "Lumos," he said and lit a lamp with his spell. So far she was impressed and a little disappointed at the same time. He had been an exemplar of decorum, and if this was an indication of things to come, she would be leaving in about two hours without a single strand of her hair out of place, not quite the night she had imagined in her wilder dreams of him.

He pulled out a chair for her and helped her get settled, then took his seat right next to her. At least he managed to sit closer than was strictly necessary, which was reassuring. If she moved her left foot a fraction, the black velvet of her dress came in contact with his right leg. His elbow was already touching her arm and she could feel the heat of his skin through the thin grey silk of his shirt. For a moment she found herself distracted by his proximity and by his scent.

She had never been this close to him and was analyzing a heady mixture of vetivert and acacia that struck her as very appropriate for him. A sidewise glance revealed his aristocratic profile with his high-backed aquiline nose, heavy eyelids and full, mobile lips. As if by instinct he looked over at her at the same moment and their eyes met. Neither of them spoke, neither of them looked away, and the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed. Static crawled over her skin as if she stood on the brink of a storm.

Finally she licked her lips. "Are there any topics you are particularly interested in?" Lucius' thoughts raced. She had just given him the perfect opening. He would only have to steer the conversation to the generation of the homunculus and he would be able to obtain all the information he needed to get Lepidus off his back. But it was so damn hard to concentrate. There she was sitting right next to him, so close that he could feel the warmth of her body seeping through the black gown she was wearing. If he looked down he saw the creamy skin of her neck cut by the severe line of a black choker, and the slope of her breasts above the low bodice of her dress. Her knees under the table seemed to both lightly lean over in his direction and make the barest contact with his right leg. One arm lay on the table, her hand right next to his, spreading the pages of the book. He saw her slender wrist, framed by the vivid orange and red of her sleeve inset that spilled like fresh blood across the wood grain.

If he had had a say in her attire for the evening he could not have suggested a better choice, save perhaps to suggest she visited naked. She seemed much less innocent than on their first encounter and less severe and restrained than during their official meeting. Now her green eyes were looking into his with an expression he could not interpret. Oh, yes, she had actually asked him a question!

Realizing that the silence had stretched much too long he cleared his throat and said: "There has been a rumor that wizards in Germany made great progress in certain areas of alchemy. The topic has always interested me, and I was wondering if your grandfather had any insights. I know some disciplines have been forbidden in practice for quite some time." He picked up his wine and took a long draught. She bent her head and leafed through the book, glanced at a few images and paragraphs as if to refresh her memory.

"Well, he drew quite a bit from muggle science, especially physics and chemistry in order to bypass some of the more arduous processes inherent in producing both the elixir and the lapis." She pointed to some alchemistical designs that she had copied and showed correspondences with the modern periodic tables. Lucius' interest was definitely aroused and he finally managed to follow her explanations quite closely. Potion-making and alchemy had always been of special fascination to him and for a brief time he managed to forget both the topic of the homunculus as well as his plans for seduction. He asked questions and led her on in her explanations until they both found that the sun had set and it had been completely dark in the garden behind the library for quite a while.

She leant back where she sat, her leg now making definite contact with his and stretched, hands pushing her away from the table, baring her slim white neck, her red hair rippling over the back of her chair. He looked up from the book and at her sinuous body as she relaxed her muscles. "Something more to drink?" he asked. She sat back up and looked at him. "That would be nice. You are right, it is a wonderful wine."

He got up, reluctantly leaving the closeness of her touch and walked back to the fireplace. She followed him with her eyes, drinking in his body as he moved, blond hair lazily falling over his shoulders. He refilled the glasses and as he turned he saw her watching him intently, green eyes huge in the candlelit dark. He noticed that she was not just looking at his face, either. Time to get to the homunculus. A little more of this and any aspirations at coherent thought would be out of the window.

As he handed her her goblet, he managed what he thought was a suitably casual question. "Did your grandfather ever concern himself with that old hobby of alchemists, the homunculi?" She took a sip of the wine, then looked at him. "Well, he made a few suggestions on how to improve the process. For example, a traditional homunculus is bred in fresh horse manure that has to be replaced as soon as its temperature drops. Of course that is a complicated, disgusting and smelly affair, even if you run a stable and have several house elves or alchemy students helping you. So instead, use fresh humus, which does not smell as badly and install a muggle heating system. Even hot water bottles will do the trick. You just moisten the humus, change out the hot water from time to time and have a better time of it.

The same with the blood that is used to feed the homunculus: Instead of chaining up some poor hapless muggles in your cellar and bleeding them dry over 40 days, apparate into the local blood bank, swipe some bags of plasma and heat them to body temperature before administering them. Of course you have to use spells to make sure you get either male or female blood only, or your homunculus will have a rather interesting sex life later."

Carefully Lucius worded his next question and took his seat next to her. "That sounds like a lot of hands-on advice. Do you think Falco ever made a live homunculus?" She gave him a thoughtful look and leaned back in her chair. "He certainly gives no indication in his book, but even at his time the generation of homunculi was forbidden, so he would probably not have published any attempts to avoid trouble. As to whether he did it in secret, from what I know if he could get away with something, he'd do it, so it's possible." He decided to push a bit further. "Did your parents or anyone else ever mention any attempts to you?"

Now her green eyes narrowed and he grew afraid that he might have aroused her suspicion, but she thought for a while and finally answered him. "It didn't work that way. My father and mother really made an attempt to raise me as a muggle in a muggle family. The only wizarding element in our lives consisted of the bookstore my father ran under the guise of a muggle store for curios, esoteric literature and antiques. He sold that to his business associate a few years before he died. Frankly I was surprised when my parents decided to enroll me at Durmstrang for my education. I guess they realized I had abilities and I had to learn to control them. After all, there are cases of young muggle-born wizards and witches who do not receive recognition or training and end up institutionalized.

Other than that, magic was never mentioned at my house. All I found out about my family came from my own research and stories told me by my teachers at school. In any case, I never heard about an actual homunculus." She gave a brief laugh. "I certainly didn't find one when I went through my possessions that my parents had left me at _Gringotts_, even though I came across a few items that the Ministry would not approve of."

Lucius decided to change the topic. "It is amazing to see how you have come into your own as a Sartorius after the kind of upbringing you describe. It seems you are very determined in the pursuit of your interests. I find that admirable." 'Pursuit of interests,' she thought, that was a suggestive bent in the conversation. Well she had not made much progress with her current pursuit and decided it was time to make or break the situation.

She laid her hand across his on the table. "Thank you," she said looking deeply into his eyes. The icy grey of his irises had turned to storm clouds. "I think there is an interest that we might share, but have not discussed yet," she suggested as she got up right in front of him. He followed her and they now stood inches apart. "And what would that be?" he asked. She watched as his lips curved around the words. Quickly she leaned in, her mouth right by his ear. Wisps of his blond hair tickled her nose as she whispered: "Animal magnetism."


	7. On the Benefits of Potions

**On the Benefits of Potions**

_"Dulcia non ferimus; succo renovamus amaro.- We do not bear sweets; we are recruited by a bitter potion."__ (Ovid, Ars Amatoria III, 583)  
  
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The wizard felt a shiver run through him as her warm breath touched him. He balled his hands into fists to prevent himself from crushing her to him, close as she was now, and moved his head so he could look down into her eyes. "And how far would you like to explore this shared interest with me?" He held her gaze and saw her lips stretch in a seductive smile. "Oh, I would think as far as it serves our mutual pleasure. You will find that I am quite flexible in my approach."

She still made no attempt at touching him, but while he understood that this was a game of control for her, his self-restraint finally frayed and he pulled her in to him forcefully, her slim body molding itself to his perfectly as he moved his hands over her back and hips, feeling hard bone and soft flesh under the sensuous smoothness of her velvet dress. She arched her head back and looked into his face, saw his eyes narrow and his nostrils flare as the touch and scent of her hit his senses. A moment later his left hand had moved up, slipped between them and curved around her breast. As an unexpected thumb flicked over her nipple and she opened her lips in a soft cry of surprised pleasure, his mouth swooped down to claim hers.

She could have sworn she saw sparks fly as their lips met, and he found that she gave him willing access as his tongue explored the hard ridges of her teeth and softness of her mouth. Soon her tongue was hotly dueling with his and he was pleased to notice that she had finally wrapped her arms around him. She lost herself in his kiss, the touch of his roaming hands, the hard planes of his body pressing into hers, and noticed his arousal as he moved restlessly against her. He was a terrific kisser, his lips and tongue gliding like liquid against her, fluid and sensuous, but like water, it finally made her want to come up for air. They broke contact at about the same moment and by the way she felt his ribs flare under her hands, she knew he was as breathless as her.

He looked at her, her cheeks seemed flushed, her green eyes appeared huge. "Perhaps we should pursue this interest in a more convenient location," he suggested. She smiled, the tip of her tongue slowly traveling along the arch of her upper lip. "Is it far?" she asked. The corner of his mouth twitched. It seemed she felt as much urgency as he did. "No," he said, "just down the hall." He kept one arm around her as he led her out of the library, but the narrow high door forced their bodies together and they paused for another long, drawn-out kiss that left her slightly dizzy and somewhat week-kneed and left him wondering if they would actually be able to make it to his bedroom.

Finally he broke the kiss only for enough time to try and pick her up to carry her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and threw her head back in a short laugh when she understood what he was trying to do. "How romantic," she whispered into his ear as she settled against him. He had a strong suspicion that the comment was laced with irony, but then concentrated on balancing her and not tripping on the thick carpet of the hallway. She was quite a light burden, but his body was not preoccupied with matters of coordination.

Finally he managed to shoo open the heavy oak door to his bedroom and set her down, not releasing his grasp on her. Curious, she turned in his embrace, her body slipping around until he felt his chest press against her back and the curve of her butt tease his swelling cock. "Lumos," he called and heard her quick breath as candles flamed up, dramatically illuminating the black, tall muslin curtains of his large four-poster bed and shimmering luxuriously on the dark silk sheets. Inky, mysterious shades remained in the corners of the large, vaulted room. He was pleased with the impact and heard an appreciative hum from her. She twisted her head back to look at him, her eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Very nice place you have. Do you take all your girls here?" He bent his head to her ear. "Only the very, very bad ones," he purred. A flick of his wrist ignited the incense burners as he moved into the room with her.

Her eyes fell on an array of bottles glowing in the candlelight on a side table. Again she wriggled against him. "Into potions, I see," she commented. "What's your poison?" He kept one arm wrapped around her waist as he stepped up to the table and picked up a tall, slim vial filled with a thick oily liquid that shimmered in ruby red and amber swirls. He looked at her. "Vorax, if you care for some," he suggested, wondering if she was familiar with the potent aphrodisiac. He watched her snake-encircled right come up and her fingers tentatively glide over the thin glass in his hand. "Haven't seen that in a while," she mused, "not since I lost my virginity, in fact."

He raised an eyebrow, even felt a short stab of jealousy. It seemed she had got off to a good start. "I hope the lucky bastard who slipped it to you deserved you," he commented dryly. She turned away from the bottle and looked at him, smiling as she remembered. "Oh, no, it was actually a – let's call it unofficial – potions project I did with some classmates at Durmstrang. We had a grand old time stealing the caput mortuum. Eric Leifson got busted, but finally we had it all ready and one summer evening all six of us got together behind the school grounds and drank it. Things got pretty wild, and as I felt I owed Eric a favor for taking the heat for us, he got to have me. He had been around as little as I had up to that point, so the Vorax turned a rather awkward event into a pretty memorable experience."

She looked back at the vial in Lucius' hand. "Well, I guess this time round it could make a very promising event into an outstanding experience." He felt an anticipatory shiver run through her. Then she faced him. "Let's go for it," she decided.

Reluctantly he broke contact with her to fill two tall glasses from a carafe of water, then he handed her the vial. "It's yours. I believe it's quite potent." His hands moved back on her body as he watched her pull the stopper from the potion bottle, sniff the contents and carefully drip the swirling liquid into the water, seven drops each, that clouded the glasses until their drinks showed the color of milky amber. She closed the vial and carefully placed it back on the sideboard. The she picked up the glasses, handed one to the man holding her and turned until they opposed each other.

She looked into his face, framed by his blond light-drenched hair and for a moment their eyes connected. He saw that she was not challenging him this time. Her eyes seemed to search for something deeper, some connection, and at that moment he realized that after this night things might not be the same, not for him and not for her. He was surprised when he found that thought neither uncomfortable nor threatening. Then her goblet touched his with a faint clink and as he drank, he watched her mouth curve around the rim of her glass as she swallowed down the potion in one long draught.

Her body shook in his embrace and she set the drink down with a shudder and a laugh. "Only awful moment," she said. "Tastes like sucking on old mummy wraps." He put his empty glass down next to hers. "Let's take care of that," he suggested as his hands moved up to cup her face and he pulled her to him for another kiss. She felt his fingers lace in her hair. His thumbs drew lazy circles on the silky soft skin just before her ears. His lips slipped over her mouth and she welcomed the warm tip of his tongue as he started teasing her into another long, drawn-out kiss.

However, this time, her sensations started to subtly change. She first realized that every touch intensified, gaining an edge of pleasure and a charge that soon had her moaning into their kiss, pressing against his body with a growing need for more. She noticed a warm, heavy feeling develop at her core that slowly sank down between her legs and she felt herself getting wet and swollen with anticipation. Then a dark wave seemed to well up inside her that pushed her into a wild and abandoned euphoria. It was not unlike an orgasm, but much more drawn-out and less sharply defined in a physical sense. She thought that if the gray matter in the brain could climax, lasting for hours instead of seconds, it would probably feel like this. She couldn't help grinding her hips against his, her hands pulling at his clothes. "Too much to wear," she gasped as his mouth released hers for a moment.

Their eyes met and she felt in the drop of his lids and the heavy breath that escaped his full and open lips that the potion had hit him in much the same way as her. Impatiently he flung off his waistcoat, then grabbed the collar of his shirt and tore it apart over his chest, sending buttons flying and startling her with the sudden violence of his action. She moved her hands in to unbuckle his belt, while he did the same for her.

Her own urgency almost terrified her. "How do I get this damn thing off you," he growled next as he found that his fingers encountered no buttons or clasps on her dress. "Aperio," she said as the whole front of her gown came apart. He lost no time pulling the fabric down over her shoulders and letting it spill on the floor. "Spells on clothes," he murmured as he moved in to kiss and bite her naked shoulders while she pushed her hands between their bodies to open his pants.

His hands cupped her naked ass and the insistent massage of his fingers distracted her as she worked his clothes. "You're not helping," she finally hissed in frustration. She needed to feel his naked flesh that very moment. He lifted his head and actually let go of her for a second. "Vestimentascedo," he incanted, and a blink of an eye later stood in front of her completely naked. For a moment she thought that the act was so in keeping with his character: the need in him to best her and his instinct for drama. Then she forgot her analysis as she took in the man she saw before her.

As he noticed her eyes on him he stopped himself for her inspection. He had the sleek but powerful body of a swimmer or a long distance runner. Darker blond hair accented the center of his chest and led her eyes from his flat stomach down to the juncture of his thighs where his fully erect cock jutted out in her direction. The dark purple and the moist gleam at his tip showed her that he had been aroused for some time. Even if she had not been under the powerful influence of the vorax potion she would have been impressed, as it was, the wave of lust sweeping over her at the sight almost gave her vertigo.

A second later she was again in his arms, now feeling the hot touch of his skin searing her front. His fingers worked the clasp of her bra and released it. She let go of him long enough to slip it down her arms and toss it aside, then his hands wandered down to the slim strips of her thong that ran over her hips. He slipped two fingers behind them, pulled sideways and released the fabric with a snap. "Ow!" She swatted at his biceps in mock protest. In her heightened state of sensual awareness the zinging pain had felt surprisingly intense. "What is this?" he asked in between kissing her face and smoothing his hands over her hips in a soothing motion.

"It's called a thong," she murmured. "Muggle invention. They would probably have pretty unflattering opinions of witch underwear." He now proceeded to pull the flimsy fabric down her legs. "Muggles," he hissed dismissively, but then his lips curved in a brief smile. "I would concur," he said and then lost his train of thought as she wriggled her ass to help the process.

Finally they faced each other, and as she lifted her hands to her throat to undo her velvet choker he stopped her. "Leave it," he demanded. "I like it on you." She stepped out of her shoes and felt his eyes rake over her body, saw the quickening of his breath and the flare of his nostrils and knew without asking that her appearance met with his full approval.

For a few moments he slowly traced his hands down her body, from her throat over her collar bones and breasts down her belly and to her sex. She stood still, watching him, shivering under the assault on her senses. The touch was only light, but increased to almost unbearable intensity by the potion. She wanted him so much, her desire was as strong as physical pain.

Lucius looked at her, completely exposed to him in this moment of stillness that he knew to be the prelude to a storm. She held her eyes almost closed as she concentrated inwards on the touch of his hands. He knew he would remember every detail about her, from the glint of candlelight caught in the flame-colored tresses of her hair to the thin blue vein that ran just under the creamy skin of her left breast. How to break the spell? He most wanted to rip her control from her, that maddening poise and self-possession. If he could make her surrender and call his name the way she had that night when he had watched her in the bath, he could truly regard her as his conquest.

To do that he would need all the control that he could still muster. All-out sex right now was out of the question. While vorax in general conferred stamina, at this moment he was so damn primed and ready, he would last all of five seconds. No, he had other plans, and with a course of action fixed in his mind he moved in on her. "Do you trust me?" he asked, lips close to her ear.

She snapped out of her trance and looked at him. What kind of question was that, and from someone like him? But she bit her lip and decided to play along. "For tonight, completely," she said with an ironic smile. He arched an eyebrow. She was still on her smartass remarks. Well, he would take care of that presently. "Close your eyes then, and don't open them, no matter what," he instructed her. This time he could almost see a comeback die somewhere behind her teeth, and with a last amused look at him she obediently shut her eyes, her long lashes lying still against her skin.

He moved himself around her and walked her to the bed, her blind steps tentative and careful now. She followed his lead as he helped her onto the mattress and had her lie on her back. The pale gold of her skin seemed to possess its own luminescence against the black silk of the sheets and her hair spilled over the pillows like liquid fire. She was breathing fast and shallow, and he saw a quick pulse beat at the base of her neck. Through all of it she kept her eyes closed as she was told. For a moment he paused and looked at her. She was his.

Next he joined her on the bed and as she reached out for him sightlessly, he firmly took her hands and placed them at her sides. She seemed to understand his intention and did not try to touch him again as he now kissed and stroked his way down her body. He reached over to use some fragrant oil from the night table to smooth into her skin and heard a soft moan as the touch and scent hit her.

Eleanor felt more alert and alive than she had in a long time. The vorax potion seemed to have reached a peak and it was hard to lie still and play along with this new game that her lover had invented. She felt cool silk beneath, the softness of a pillow supporting her head and Lucius all over the rest of her. She never knew where he would touch her next. That was his mouth on her breast, a strand of his hair, light and silky against her belly as he bent over her, the flat of his hand on her thigh, now on her hips, the rougher skin of a knee against her flank, then his thighs bracketing her as he straddled her, his cock briefly grazing her navel, leaving a light, cooling trail of his pre-come in its wake. Skin sensations went into overdrive between caresses of almost maddening lightness and harsher manipulations as he moved her to position her for better access or used his teeth on her neck and shoulders between kisses.

A few minutes into this she found herself moaning with every breath she took. Really quite shameful, how he was able to take her apart, she thought, but she found that she had no time to care, so hard to remain passive, so hard to keep her hands still and her eyes closed, so hard not to feel him where she most wanted him.

Then, suddenly, all sensation stopped. She gasped in shocked surprise, and before she could control herself she had opened her eyes. For a second she saw him kneel to her side, towering over her. Then a sharp slap hit her flank. She hissed at the touch. "Some trust," he rasped. "You will have to do better than that. In fact I think I will have to make you ask for what you want me to do to you next." She bit her lip. 'Bedding a Malfoy, what did you expect?' she chided herself, but her body betrayed her. She felt a thrill of anticipation race through her. No one had ever treated her like this, had dared to take these kinds of risk with her. She could do this, but there would be hell to pay for him later. She would make him suffer. He must have read something in her face, because his eyes narrowed as he evaluated her expression.

She licked her lips. Ask for what you want. He had really put her in charge right now, but it was so damn hard. She swallowed. "I want to feel your mouth on my cunt," she finally stated. "Nice," he said with a faint sneer. "You don't mince your words. But that's not asking, that's telling, my dear. We'll have to work on the delivery." The bastard. She glared at him, but she wanted him so badly, she already knew she would do it. "Please, Lucius, kiss my cunt and make me come," she gritted out. He arched an eyebrow. "Acceptable, if crude," he said. "Here we go, eyes closed again, no touching and I'll see what I can do for you." She shot him one last dagger glance, but he stayed immobile until she had blinded herself again.

The arrogance of it! She started to plot her revenge, but found his next actions too distracting for coherent thought. His arm pushed underneath her back and he lifted her hips off the bed with ease. As he released her she felt her ass coming to rest on what had to be at least two thick pillows, elevating her for easier access. She suddenly felt exposed. Next he carefully held her head as he removed the pillow that had supported her there. She found that it forced her to concentrate her attention to what was now the highest point of her body. With her skin stretched taut over her stomach and pubic bone she shivered. The man knew how to play mind-games.

Lucius looked down on the woman displayed before him, her eyes shut tightly now, her palms open towards him on the sheets in an unconscious gesture of surrender. The choker he had asked her to wear lay as a harsh black slash against her long slender neck. Her spine bent backwards as her hips jutted out towards him. She had already lightly parted her legs and he caught an inviting glimpse of the flushed wet flesh at her core. He knew he was playing with fire, but he hadn't had this much fun in a long, long time. 'Please, Lucius,…' That had been priceless. He would try to reward her for it as best he could.

He quickly bent down to her. She deserved a little encouragement for her cooperation. "Enjoy yourself," he whispered and kissed her. Then he pulled apart her knees and got to work. The clean, simple scent and taste of surf hit him as he started kissing and licking her sex. He found he enjoyed running his mouth along her velvety hairless lips and tried some variations in speed and pressure while carefully listening to her moans and interpreting the subtle shifts of her hips and legs. He soon discovered that she responded best when he teased her small, already swollen bud with the flat of his tongue, and gentle nips of his teeth made her gasp and tremble.

Next he brought his hands to play, fucking her first with one, then with two fingers while keeping his mouth busy in rhythm. After a little while he realized he needed his arms to keep her steady as she now restlessly moved her hips, fighting for release. Judging by the way she moaned, she could not be far from climax. Her hands bunched the sheets and her hips lifted off the pillows as she plowed her heels into the mattress and ground herself against him. Finding it hard to control her he eventually grabbed her left hip with his free hand and dug his fingers deeply into her soft flesh. The calculated mix of pressure and pain finally pushed her over the edge. She cried out and he could feel her surprisingly powerful grip tighten and release against his fingers over and over. His skill or perhaps the vorax potion kept her going for quite a while and when she finally fell back onto the sheets with a last sigh, she did not make a sound or move at all.

He withdrew his hand and pushed himself up from his crouch to take a look at her. Her eyes were closed without effort now, her face turned sideways into her hair, her mouth slack. Her hands had released the sheets and he could see a steady pulse beat under the stretched skin below her ribcage. Candlelight revealed a light sheen of sweat on her arms and chest. For a moment he entertained the proud suspicion that he had managed to actually render her unconscious, but then she took a shuddering breath and her eyes opened.

She looked up at him under narrowed lids. "Gods!" she said. He stretched himself out beside her, one hand possessively curling over her hips, gently stroking her skin. "Just Lucius should suffice," he suggested. He found that his concentration on her had taken down some of the pressure on him. He would be ready for her once she had recovered. She shook her head. "Insufferable arrogance..." Her voice sounded rougher and thicker than he remembered. With some difficulty she arched her body and pulled the pillows out from underneath her. Then she collapsed back on the sheets.

He was good, she had to give him that. This orgasm had been worth begging for, even without the help of the vorax, and she almost forgave him. Now he lay at her side, propped up on one elbow, blond hair spilling over his chest and shoulders, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. Grey eyes looked down on her, studying her intently and his mouth, still wet with her juices curved in smug self-satisfaction. She reached up, pulled him down to her and kissed him, feeling for a moment that he seemed surprised she would be so ready to taste herself on his lips, then he eagerly responded. His hair fell around them like a silvery tent, catching the candlelight. His body stretched against her, seeking to touch her where he could.

She drew out the connection, the kiss, the lazy caresses, as she needed some time to recover. Soon she would be ready to take him on, and her plans for revenge assumed a more definite shape. She had noticed that the muslin curtains surrounding the mattress were fastened against the bedposts by soft, broad strips of cloth. They should easily come lose and could be threaded through the slats of the headboard for very effective restraints. But would she be able to tie up Lucius Malfoy? Managing that and having him at her mercy would be delicious. She was not planning anything outright evil, but she would try and make him beg for a change. While she laid out a plan of action, she felt that the urgency of his attentions had increased. So far she had to admire him for keeping it together so well, but she was sure that he had to be dying for some relief by now.

The vorax potion was still coursing through her veins and she was quite amazed as she felt herself already responding again to his exploring hands. If he bounced back as well as she obviously did, they would be at it till morning. Lucius noticed the involuntary grin that spread over her face at the thought. "Something amusing?" he asked between kisses. She improvised quickly. "Well, I was thinking about trust," she replied. "And how far you'd go to prove it. Or would you botch it like I did?"

He pursed his lips. "Why don't you try me?" he met her challenge, walking right into her trap. She pretended to think about it and he grew more insistent. "What would you have me do?" "Oh, I'd be generous," she finally said. "In fact, I'll even let you watch." "Well?" he prompted her. "You'll have to help a little," she said, smiling at him. "Just lie on your back, right here – perfect. Put your hands towards the headboard, yes, a little further apart. Now for my only rule: You can't move. Ready?"

He looked up at her and nodded. She was already on her hands and knees and crawled over to the side of the mattress untying the muslin bows that held the bed curtains in place. Of course by then he knew what she had planned, but now it was too late. If he stopped her, he would lose her challenge. Her lapse while opening her eyes would have been nothing in comparison. Lucius was not the man to easily relinquish control in bed or in any other area of his life, for that matter, but his pride would not allow him to back down now. So he watched with mixed feelings as she gently but firmly wrapped the black cloth around his wrists and then tied the ends to the headboard of his bed. Her breasts bobbed inches from his face as she moved and he found it hard to resist the urge to lift his head and nip them. Finally she seemed satisfied with her work and sat back on her heels, surveying him.

She reveled in the sight of him stretched out, helpless, looking up at her expectantly. It had almost been too easy. "Well," she told him. "You won. Flawless performance, not even the twitch of a muscle. I concede utter defeat in the trust department." He arched his eyebrows. "That's it?" he asked. "Tying someone up doesn't prove anything. Even if I didn't trust you, I couldn't do anything about it now. Believe me. I've tied up plenty of people who didn't trust me. Matter of fact, that's why I usually had to tie them up in the first place."

She laughed now, red hair flying. Time to have some fun, work his nerves. "You're right. But the way you let me do it implied great trust. Trust that I would eventually untie you, trust that I would not abuse the situation now to damage you in any way. I bet none of your victims were as easy a job as you've just been." By the way he compressed his lips she could tell that he did not feel happy about whatever he imagined she might do to him.

"So, winner gets the reward, right?" she asked. "Time for you to enjoy." "You may want to untie me first?" he suggested hopefully, but she shook her head. "Believe me, when this is over you will agree that the ties were necessary." The look on his face was priceless. She allowed herself another moment of triumph, then concentrated. Matching his expertise would be a tough task. While his challenge was over, hers had just begun.

She bent forwards and moved over his body, caressing him with hers, running her hands, her breasts, her lips and hair over his chest, painting wet trails on his outstretched arms and on his stomach with her tongue, nipping and biting his flat pebbled nipples, lightly raking her nails down his sides, making him shudder and hiss. He was shifting restlessly underneath her now, his wrists straining against their bindings, his breath fast and uneven. She nudged her knee between his thighs and mounted his left leg, lowering herself, so he could feel her wet center. He responded by lightly lifting his knee and grinding into her. As she crouched over him again, his cock was now mere inches from her face, but while she felt more than tempted, she studiously ignored it and continued to lavish her caresses on every other part of him. He was fighting his bonds in earnest now and she could imagine he would have loved the use of his hands to push her head towards his erection.

When she heard him growl in frustration she finally gave in. He would beg later. Cupping and stroking his balls with one hand, she used her other to lift his cock off his stomach and closed her lips around its head. She took her time lapping at the salty drops that were already slicking him, then slowly took in the length of his shaft as far as she could. As he had done before with her she paid attention to his voice and body to find the ways she could please him best. Eventually she ended up alternating deeper thrusts assisted by her hands with times where she concentrated on his head, lightly raking her teeth over the taut velvety skin and teasing the stretched sinew that ran between his tip and his shaft with the tip of her tongue. His moans and the way his hips responded to her let her guess that she was doing something right. Still, she had more in mind and when she suspected that she had got him close to the edge she stopped and released him.

She looked up at him and provocatively licked her lips. He did not say anything, but the glare from his grey eyes told her that he was not pleased with her for postponing his gratification. He had balled his bound hands into fists and she could see the strain in the muscles of his arms and chest. With a smile she pushed herself up and straddled his hips. She kept eye contact as she remained upright on her knees and slipped a finger into her own wetness, spreading it and stroking herself for a little. When she finally lifted her hand to her mouth to taste herself she heard the barest whisper of a curse from him. Slowly she reached behind her, lifted his cock once more and lowered herself onto him, giving herself all the time she wanted, feeling him first searing hot against her entrance, then taking him in inch by inch until she felt gorged with him. For a few moments she held very still until she saw him bite his lips in anticipation, then she started riding him.

As before she settled into an easy rhythm, now swiveling her hips slightly on the downturn, pushing from her thighs and using her hands to stroke herself and him. She saw his eyes slip shut as he concentrated inwards, readying himself, but as his body started arching up and his hips syncopated her movements she stopped once more, almost releasing him and gently reaching behind her, lifting and stretching his balls. She heard him gasp in frustration as he opened his eyes. "For fuck's sake woman!" he exploded. She just shook her head. "That's not very motivating, my dear," she smiled back at him. She took her time, making sure she had really pulled him back from the brink, then she went back to work.

When she aborted the next attempt in much the same manner, she knew she had got him truly furious. She saw the tendons in his throat stick out, the darkened color of his face as he threatened her and tried to fight his restraints to free himself, to bend her to his will. She kept herself elevated above him, her hands pressed down on his heaving chest for leverage and waited until he had calmed down a little. "Lucius, remember how I managed to get what I wanted a little while ago? I really want to be good to you, but you will have to let me." He glared at her and gritted his teeth. He wasn't ready yet. As she began to build him up again, she hoped that she would be able to break him the next time. Her efforts began to have quite an effect on her, and she now had to fight her own temptation to give in and ride him to climax.

The third time she stopped him he groaned, but then actually managed to relax his body. He threw back his head and took a few seconds to collect himself. When he finally looked at her, she saw that he had his anger under control. In fact she believed that she detected some grudging admiration in the keen glance of his eyes. "You have guts, to toy with a Malfoy," he stated flatly. "I won't forget." Then he compressed his lips for a moment before he finally gritted out the words she had so wanted to hear. "Now, Eleanor, will you please finish me off?" She beamed a big grateful smile at him, bent over to kiss him, eve though he made a mock attempt to bite her and then settled back down on top of him. "With the utmost pleasure, Lucius."

With her first few movements he could feel that she was committed this time. Her pace was rougher, faster than before, she even seemed to feel tighter around him as the pressure built on every downstroke. She bent herself backwards, pushing down with her hands on his thighs for leverage, giving him a perfect view of his cock pistoning in and out of her, her breasts bouncing in rhythm, her hair cascading down her back. Sweat slicked her chest and stomach and she began to moan. But Lucius found that he did not have long to enjoy the sight. He had waited for so long, when release finally came the explosive intensity of it was almost unbearable.

She felt him as she balanced herself atop him, the way his thighs compressed, his hips moved beneath her and tightened her grip. Seconds later he had arched his body clear off the mattress almost throwing her off with a roar that set several house elves in other parts of the manor scrambling for cover. She could feel the force of his climax, the way his cock jerked inside her. And on the last few thrusts he took her right with him.

She finally found herself sprawled forward across his chest, his cock slowly relaxing inside her. With a groan she pushed herself up and saw him lying still and unresponsive, his hands limply hanging from his bindings. His eyes were closed and a slow deep breath raised and lowered his chest. She moved off him, releasing the strong, musky scent of his seed as he slipped out of her. Her hand trembled slightly as she pushed his hair back from his sweat-soaked forehead.

"Lucius?" His heavy lids slowly opened and he looked at her, her face close to his. "How the hell did you do that?" he slurred. She smiled. "You delay for that long, when you finally release, the effects tend to be rather dramatic." "And you spend your time at Hogwarts teaching snot-nosed mudblood brats about Muggles," he declared with a sneer, getting back to his old form already. "You are wasting your talents." "Well, one is for money, the other is for a hobby," she said lightly. "Which one is which?" he asked in good Malfoy fashion.

"You go on like this and I may think twice about getting these off you." She pointed at the restraints. "Wouldn't you agree now, that they were necessary?" He glowered at her. "They may still be," he threatened. "You do remember the Malfoy motto?" He was pleased to see her self-confidence waver a little. "Come now," she coaxed him. "If this is provocation, what would you consider fun? Here, let me untie these."

She bent over him as before and nestled at the knots, but his struggle had tightened the fabric so much, she was unable to tease them open. She even detected slight bruising at his wrists. She compressed her lips as she saw the outline of the dark mark on the inside of his left forearm seemingly suffused with blood. Finally she gave up and he watched her as she crawled towards the edge of the bed. "Accio wand," she commanded. She turned back to him, wand in hand. "Resolvo," she commanded and watched as the bindings fell off him and he pulled his arms in towards his chest with a soft groan, twisting his wrists. "Ever thought of joining us Death Eaters?" he taunted her. "You seem to have a knack for torture." She moved back to his side and glowered at him. "That's not funny, Lucius," she said. He just raised an eyebrow, but did not comment.

They both took a few moments to collect themselves and Eleanor felt the buzz of the vorax slowly fade, leaving her shivery and a little tired, though sleeping was still the last thing on her mind as she looked at the body of her lover stretched out beside her. He gave her a searching glance and licked his lips. "Coming down, too?" he asked. She ran her hand over his hip. "Slowly," she nodded, understanding that their reactions to the potion were in synch. "Well, on seeing what we had for starters, I'd like to make the most of tonight." he suggested. "Care for some more?" She considered for a moment. "As a famous muggle poet once said, 'I can resist anything except temptation,'" she finally stated with a smile.

He rolled off the bed and walked back over to the side table from where he returned moments later with two glasses filled to the brim with opalescent amber liquid. She had not seen him prepare the drinks, but suspected from the degree of suspension in the water, that he had not restricted himself to her seven drops. As he passed one glass to her she sat up and they both drank down the vorax, stifling the shudder from the bitterness in a shared kiss.

As she remembered later, the rest of the night passed in a lust-drenched haze unlike anything she had ever experienced. Had someone pressed her to recall the number of times they climaxed she would have had to admit that she lost count at some point in the early hours of the morning. She even remembered moments where she felt that the sensation of her physical identity had blurred, and she was unsure where exactly the boundaries between her and his body lay. Thought was replaced by instinct, reflection by pure sensation that did not dull due to the vorax, until even the distinction between pleasure and pain became meaningless. She would not have been able to tell if they went to sleep at some point or simply lost consciousness.


	8. Regrets

**Regrets **

_"Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets."(Arthur Miller)_

She drifted back to the surface with a start when pale morning light filtered through the heavy draperies in front of the high windows of the bedroom. After a moment of disorientation she found herself tangled in a heap of black silk sheets and pillows with Lucius possessively sprawled across her. She freed one hand and rubbed her eyes, then she carefully extricated the rest of herself. Her skin was alternately slick and sticky with their mingled juices and she could not recall ever having felt so sore. Every muscle protested as she moved. He continued breathing softly, interrupted only by a few mumbles, but did not wake as she slipped off the mattress. A chair at the foot of the bed held a black dressing gown casually flung across the back, and she slipped into it, rolling up the sleeves that were too long for her and padded off in search of the bathroom.

A door at the far end of the bedroom led to a chamber tiled in black and blood-red marble that was dominated by a large sunken bath. The cold stone chilled her feet and woke her completely as she rooted around for a cloth and towels, slipped out of the dressing gown and cleaned herself up. She started sorting her thoughts, thankful for the fact that at least vorax potion did not cause any hangovers.

Part of her longed to fill the marble basin with hot water and to immerse herself relaxing her bunched and strained muscles for a while, but she was not sure if she was ready to face Lucius in the sober light of morning. The potion had helped them to break down physical barriers to an extent that had not been matched by an equal exchange of other knowledge about each other. She felt she needed to reassess her own identity before she could reasonably talk to him again. Part of her nagged her that she was simply trying to rationalize the fact that she behaved like a coward and just wanted to flee, but she felt vulnerable. And she was sure that around Lucius Malfoy vulnerable was the one thing she did not care to be.

So she restricted herself to a quick sponge bath and took at critical look herself in the tall mirror above the marble wash basin. Her hair was a thick, tangled mess that even his brush was unable to fix completely. She looked pale with dark-rimmed eyes and found to her embarrassment that she sported a few rather spectacular bruises and bite marks around her neck and shoulders and various other areas of her body. Well, Lucius might have many faults, but lack of vigor, skill and enthusiasm certainly was not one of them. She was also sure that she had given as good as she'd got. One could always use some spells later to take care of anything that might raise problematic questions.

Finally she tiptoed back into his room and quietly approached the bed, putting his dressing gown back where she'd found it. Her gown lay in a crumpled heap on the floor and she picked it up and slipped it on, closing it with a quick spell. Next followed her shoes and belt, but as she prepared to sheath her wand that she had used earlier on his black muslin bindings she hesitated. If she disappeared without a trace he might misconstrue that as regret or even resentment, neither of which described what she felt. She should really leave something behind to indicate that she had thoroughly enjoyed the night. The man who lay sleeping before her had exceeded her expectations in more ways than one. A thank you and goodbye were in order.

For a few moments she racked her brains. A note was too complicated for her right now and could seem too committed. Another gift would be inappropriate also. Eventually she managed to make up her mind, touched the pillow next to his face with her wand and mumbled an incantation. She took one last look at him, gently pulled some lose sheets over his naked body, stood away from the bed and stroked her snake bracelet. She had barely spoken the activation spell when she already saw the familiar shapes of her room before her.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was woken by a particularly bright and persistent band of sunlight that slowly inched its way across his body and finally reached his face. For a moment he clenched his eyes and grimaced as his hands sought for her body among the sheets. When he came up empty, he finally looked about him. He was alone. The intensity of the disappointment he felt astonished him. He had expected she would be there, perhaps still asleep, ready for him to wake her. He realized he had hoped to spend the day with her, show her the house and garden, work on his plan to try and eventually bring her into the society that served the Dark Lord, and of course enjoy another night like the last with her. Why in the blazes would she leave?

Then his eyes fell on a spot of vivid orange on the pillow next to him. He stretched out his hand and found himself holding a perfect tiger lily blossom of the most intense fire hues. He looked at it, each petal like a living flame, striped and mottled in amber and bronze, pollen like gold dust in the center. It was beautiful, precisely the color of her hair, and he was not surprised to find her frankincense scent trapped in it as he sniffed it. So she had left, but she had left a message behind. He had known from the start that she would want him on her terms, but it irked him that she could let go this easily. He stretched over to his night table and reached for his wand. "Petrificus," he intoned and felt the delicate blossom turn hard and brittle in his fingers. Carefully he placed it in an empty oil vial on the side of his bed.

* * *

For Eleanor Saturday passed in a daze. She spent most of the morning catching up on lost sleep and then slowly got herself ready for the day. Spells fixed her hair and erased other traces of the previous night, but she still experienced echoes of his touch, ghost hands that seemed to caress her, memories of his mouth on her body. She still felt herself suffused with him. She had not thought that sex like she had just experienced was even possible and knew that part of her could not wait to get back to him for more.

At the same time she reproached herself for her weakness. She knew she should not be dependent on him for anything. A physical experience of that intensity would affect her feelings, she was sure of it. Finally she got tired of the battle inside her head and found some colleagues who planned to go to Hogsmeade for the evening. She spent a few hours at the Three Brooms dousing her conscience, aches and soreness with a light dose of firewhisky chatting with Professor Piotrofski about her exploits and playing wizard chess with Severus Snape.

When she got back a large eagle owl was sitting on her windowsill, eying her impatiently. Her heart beat fast as she untied a small parcel from his foot, that contained a letter and a small vial set in silver and cut from a single piece of crystal that could be worn as a pendant. She laid the jewelry to the side and read the letter.

"Dear Eleanor,

I was sorry to miss you this morning and trust that you did not leave because I earned your resentment or dissatisfaction in any way. Please accept my gift as a memento of an incredible night. I hope that you are interested in retrieving your cloak, and I will make myself available whenever you would like to visit to pick it up. Please send me a note when you would like to see me. Your portkey will remain spellbound.

Yours, Lucius"

She took a deep breath and inspected the crystal. The ruby and amber swirls of the liquid inside told her that he had bottled some of the vorax potion for her. She smiled in spite of herself and before the nagging of her conscience got the better of her, she penned a reply, assuring him of her satisfaction and pleasure, thanking him for the previous night and inviting herself for the following Friday.

* * *

The next few days passed quickly as Eleanor had planned her first muggle excursion for her second year students. She still had to complete some preparations, advise the wizard-born children on muggle dress and behavior, and then spent all of Tuesday visiting a shopping mall in a nearby town. Her pupils had a good time, as a few of them even purchased some muggle artifacts with money that she had provided and everyone chatted excitedly on the way back and all through dinner. She had set them the homework of writing an essay on their experiences and was getting ready to retire for the day when Dumbledore stopped her after the evening meal.

"Eleanor, I would like a quick word with you in my rooms," he told her. "I have some information that may interest you." Curious she followed him up the spiral staircase to the domed oval chamber that served the headmaster of Hogwarts as an office. Dumbledore invited her to sit facing him across his broad oak desk and laid some papers before her. She picked up a slim, elegant brochure. Swirling letters on the front announced: "Auction of the Effects of the Late Famous Wizards Falco Sartorius, Marius Bernhard and Francesca Fortescue. Offered for the Bids of our Discriminating Audience by the Ancient and Respected Auction House of Kenessey & Ferrara, Budapest."

She leafed through the pictures and descriptions until one of the lots caught her attention. The image showed a bundle of five letters tied together by an indigo bow and stamped with the Sartorius family crest. She quickly read the description.

"For all scholars and other individuals interested in the life and work of the famous Falco Sartorius we offer a lot of five letters that cast an interesting light on the practice of this renowned and controversial alchemist and master of the dark arts. The letters date from 1891 to 1956 and deal with topics as diverse as a disciplinary hearing at Durmstrang and the actual generation of what is probably the only homunculus ever produced after the international ban of 1911."

Eleanor lowered her hand and stared unseeing at the woodgrain of Dumbledore's desk. She couldn't help remembering Lucius' questions during their last meeting. He must have known about the auction and had tried to gather information from her without revealing his purpose. His seemingly casual remarks had been calculated and precise. Hot anger welled up in her at being used in this way, and she pretended to study the other materials before her to avoid showing her emotion. Her eyes focused as she read her family name again in a letter that was addressed to the headmaster. She re-read the relevant paragraph.

"I thought it would interest you to know, Albus, that the Sartorius letters were the property of the late Vlad Harkoff, a Death Eater and follower of You-Know-Who. He must have acquired them during the raid on Conrad Sartorius' family in the 70s. Interestingly enough they were offered by a muggle, who had been in the service of the Harkoff family for some time. The man has disappeared since and the aurors in charge of the investigation have been unable to find him so far. We believe that he has come to grief.

The letters were eventually purchased by a wizard named Nestor Bloggs, who is suspected to be an agent for several London-based Death Eaters, among them George Lepidus who we believe is the current leader of the English followers of You-Know-Who. A specialist of such matters at the Ministry of Magic is of the opinion that the dark wizards are interested in the materials, because the possession of a homunculus would get them one step further to reviving their master."

She was clenching her teeth now, seething with fury. Everything was so clear: Lucius Malfoy had played her for a fool the entire time. The present of the book had been merely a ploy to get more information, in case Falco had left descriptions of the generation and animation process for homunculi. During the meeting last Friday he had made another attempt to find out what she knew. She was certain now that he had had sex with her solely for the purpose of ensuring her trust and cooperation. She had been so stupid!

Dumbledore broke her train of thought as he pushed a newspaper clipping towards her. He didn't say anything, but her heart sank when she read the headline.

"Ancient Sartorius Residence Sacked and Desecrated.

The Cologne town home of the late Sartorius family under the curatorship of the German Historical Wizarding Society was broken into last night and sacked. Priceless artifacts were destroyed and the place left in complete chaos by a group of five hooded marauders dressed in black. Neighbors reported noises and a disturbance, but by the time aurors arrived on the scene, the damage had already been done.

A spokeswitch for the GHWS expressed puzzlement at the situation: 'Nothing is actually missing, but many objects were smashed and destroyed. We are not sure whether this was a really sick prank, an act of retaliation, or a search for a particular artifact that the burglars could not find. We are currently tidying up and assessing the damage.'

An anonymous source has informed this reporter that the described act of outrage against a treasured piece of magical heritage was actually perpetrated by one George Lepidus, who gained notoriety several years ago as an alleged follower of You-Know-Who. He escaped imprisonment, because his guilt could never be proved conclusively. This newspaper is still investigating the claim and will keep its readers updated on any further insights and developments."

Eleanor looked up at Dumbledore who regarded her intently but not unkindly. "I see that you understand," he said. She nodded. "You know what I have done?" she asked. He tilted his head. "If you refer to your association with Mr. Malfoy, then I am aware of the general situation." She felt herself blush furiously.

"Hecate! I was an idiot," she groaned. "Why didn't you warn me before?" Dumbledore folded his hands. "I believe that part of you was already warning you, but you chose to override your inner voice." Suddenly she felt the stab of an intense suspicion. "That's why you invited me to come to Hogwarts! You knew that the Sartorius family would play a part again in the war against Voldemort. You put me in Malfoy's way. You used me, just as he used me."

The old wizard before her paused, and when he spoke again he sounded tired. "Well, Eleanor, in times like these we are asked to chose a side or a side will chose us. There is no place for neutrality. You feel the pull of those who would like to see Voldemort defeated forever and those that would have him restored to his former power. You hold knowledge and abilities that both sides would possess and use to their ends.

When I brought you here I thought to act as a catalyst. I knew that I took a gamble. You are of an old and proud house skilled in the dark arts. There are aspects in your character that would be susceptible to corruption by someone like Lucius Malfoy. Still, I have met many of the Death Eaters, and while some like Lepidus are evil beyond redemption, some like Malfoy still possess the potential to turn from their path and change for the better. He has a family and an heir to provide for, possesses a keen sense of honor, and he will always rather serve himself than another. This makes him a liability as far as Voldemort is concerned.

You must have felt the war of wills as you spoke to him. He would try and bring you over to his side. You must have argued for him to abandon the Death Eaters, to stop following his master." She remembered their conversation in the office of the board of governors and nodded.

"If we could have you and Malfoy we would have gained a tremendous advantage. Of course if Malfoy could turn you, our loss would be grave. I decided to let you make up your own mind even while others advised me against it. You know what he is tempting you with, now. He has wealth, influence and charisma, and he is a powerful and intelligent man. All of this will appeal to you. So how do you decide?"

She stared at the headmaster. "There is only one choice that is possible," she said. "I will never serve Voldemort, the murderer of my kin! Malfoy lied to me and tried to use me. He serves his master. I owe him nothing, and I will have my revenge for what he did." Dumbledore shot her a warning glance. "Do not let the thought of revenge influence your decision. The dark arts have a way of turning against you if your motives are compromised. Follow your own will. If you merely seek revenge, Malfoy will still influence your actions."

Chastened, she nodded. "What should I do, Albus? If my grandfather really created a homunculus, going against the ban, I need to undo the damage. Otherwise my family will have been responsible for the return of Voldemort. I need to find this thing and destroy it before Lepidus and Malfoy can get to it." Dumbledore took the papers from the table between them and placed them in a folder.

"I believe you have already answered your own question. Please take the documents and feel free to study them. They represent all we know for the time being. Anything you can remember, perhaps something your parents told you, will be valuable. You also need to know that a homunculus will always have an affinity to its creator or his blood-relations. If Falco's creation is lost, you of all people will have the best chance to retrieve it. Trust in hunches, listen to your instincts, try to remember your dreams and other fleeting impressions. All of them may be important. If you wish, I am always ready to listen and advise."

Dazed and angry she left the headmaster's office and made her way back to her room where she slammed the door and stalked over to her desk. Her first impulse was to use her portkey to apparate in Lucius' library and put every single evil spell and hex that she knew on him. "Do not let the thought of revenge influence your decision," she mumbled, quoting Dumbledore until she had calmed down somewhat. Finally she sat down and pulled out a sheet of parchment. She would do the honorable thing and notify him that she was breaking contact with him because of his betrayal and that he should consider her his adversary.

"Mr. Malfoy,

It has come to my attention that you have abused my acquaintance to gather information for your Death Eater friends under false pretenses. In case you would like to feign ignorance of what I am referring to, I would like to point your attention to an auction catalog published by Kenessey & Ferrara for an auction that took place on the fourth of August in Budapest and an article on page 3 of the Monday edition of the Daily Prophet.

I am returning your gifts with the exception of my grandfather's book, which should be mine by right and heritage. Please send my cloak back to me at your earliest convenience and do not presume to contact me in any other way in the future. I do not wish to have further communications with you and will take whatever action I need against you and your associates to protect my interests and the interests of my family.

E. Sartorius."

She made her way though the chilly autumn night to the owlery and dispatched the message and parcel with his gifts before she went to bed. It took her a considerable time to go to sleep.


	9. On Falco's Trail

**On Falco's Trail**

_"In the midst of great joy do not promise to give a man anything; in the midst of great anger do not answer a man's letter." (Chinese Proverb)_

Lucius Malfoy would remember the 7th of October as one of the days that qualified as downright abysmal. It was raining to begin with and during breakfast in the dim, vaulted dining room overlooking the grey and foggy garden he was showered by owls, each of them bearing worse news than the next. First arrived a message from Narcissa that she was planning to arrive later that day from the extended summer vacation at her family home.

The next owl, that he recognized as the ill-tempered black familiar belonging to Lepidus, announced a meeting for the evening. The Death Eaters had returned from Cologne, and as Lucius knew from the article in the international news section of the Daily Prophet, the mission had been unsuccessful. Worse than that, it seemed that Lepidus had even been recognized as the perpetrator. Their leader would be in an extremely foul mood indeed.

Finally, as he got ready to turn back to his now stale and cold toast, a third owl ringed with the Hogwarts crest had landed, and when he identified Eleanor's handwriting and eagerly turned to read the letter it was carrying, he found himself in for a harsh shock.

"Damn!" He swept the contents of his breakfast off the table with a jerk of his arm, sending silverware and china flying in all directions. Even his vicious kicks at the house elves that presently cowered around him to mop up tea and collect the shards of broken china did not help to improve his mood. He tore off his dressing gown that now sported a large gob of orange marmalade on its sleeve, threw it on the floor for the elves to clean and stalked from the room, crushing her letter in his hand.

When he arrived in his study he flattened the crumpled parchment and re-read her cold and hostile accusations and her announcement that she wished no further contact with him. Aside from his personal disappointment he knew that he would now get into serious trouble with Lepidus. Their leader would want to know tonight, what progress he had made with Falco's granddaughter and he would have next to nothing to report. Instead he would have to tell the Death Eaters that Eleanor now knew what they were up to and had announced her decision to fight them.

However, he found that he was more troubled by the personal impact of her hostility. The realization of the extent to which he would miss her enraged him even more. He tried to combat his foul mood by alternately trying to figure out who had alerted her to his ploy and devising exquisite punishments for them and plotting elaborate schemes for winning back her trust and clearing himself of her suspicions. If only he had not asked her so persistently about the homunculus. Around noon he commanded Dobby to pack up and bring him Eleanor's cloak and prepared a message to send back with it.

"Dear Eleanor,

As you requested in your letter I am returning your cloak. I am deeply troubled and hurt to read your accusations. I wish you would find it in your heart to consent to a meeting where I could address your concerns and defend myself. At no point did I pursue my relationship with you for selfish reasons of cheating you out of information. I have always been motivated by genuine attraction and the wish to be close to you. If you are prepared to listen to enemies bent on separating us you should also listen to me and allow me to show you my sincerity and devotion. I appeal to your sense of fairness and hope to see you soon.

Yours, Lucius."

He put a lightness spell on the packed cloak to make the delivery easier for his owl and sent out the message in the hopes of receiving an answer from her, but by nightfall, when Narcissa had arrived and started to turn the house upside down, he was still waiting impatiently.

He tried to keep his temper under control as his wife started whining at him about tasks she thought he had neglected during the summer and Draco annoyed him with unrealistic demands for treats and toys that his mother's relatives had spoilt him with and that he now missed at home. Later at night the prospect of getting on his broom and flying to London for the Death Eater meeting seemed almost enticing. It was still raining and a cold autumn wind kept whipping sheets of water at him as he made his way through the darkness. Even the repelling spell that he had used did not help much.

He found that his associates arrived with tempers almost as foul as his own as they shook out cloaks, stowed brooms and talked in suppressed whispers. Lepidus was late as usual and opened the meeting by dragging a lifeless human body into the room and unceremoniously throwing it to the ground among them. The man had not had an easy death by the looks of him. Lucius felt the tenseness in his muscles. He knew that Lepidus in his current state of frustration would strike out at the slightest provocation. Finally their leader started proceedings with a snarl.

"We have been thwarted in every way," he announced. "Vlad Harkoff's muggle servant has proved to be an ignorant idiot who could not give us any information, even though we were as persuasive as we could be." He indicated the corpse at his feet. "By the way, Mulciber, get rid of this garbage when we are done. No one in Budapest could help us, although we put several of the Kenessey & Ferrara employees under the _imperius_ curse. The Sartorius house in Cologne has held no clue. Has anyone anything useful for us, or are you all completely incompetent? What have you all been doing while we were gone, risking our freedom and our names for the cause?"

Lucius felt Lepidus' hard eyes come to rest on him. "Malfoy, what of your progress with the Sartorius witch?" The blond wizard swallowed hard. He realized he had started to sweat despite the fact that his clothes were still cold and clammy with rain.

"I have spoken with her, and I find her ignorance is profound. All she knew was related to the improvements her grandfather had made to the generation process, but she wasn't even sure if Falco had ever made a real specimen. She thought it unlikely given the ban of 1911. You must understand, her parents were obsessed with leading a muggle life and did not talk to her at all about magic. The only useful information she had was related to the fact that her father ran a bookstore in London for some years. It was sold before his death. The store may hold some clues for us."

Lepidus took a step towards him. "How did you obtain the information? How can you be sure she spoke the truth? Did you give her veritaserum? How much pain was she in? Was she under the _imperius_ curse?" Lucius clenched his fists. "I asked her. She had no reason to doubt me when she spoke to me. I am convinced she told the truth."

The older wizard almost spat at him. "You lily-livered fool," he hissed. "You never could lay hands on a woman, could you? I thought your father taught you your lessons, but it seems that even a _cruciatus_ curse doesn't get through your thick hide. You trust her. How quaint! How chivalrous! Are your really that stupid?"

By now Lucius was furious enough to disregard punishment and repercussions. "Your heavy-handed approach has caused us nothing but grief, Lepidus! You got your name all over the Daily Prophet for your caper in Cologne. Are you happy about the fame and publicity? I go ahead and torture or otherwise tamper with a Hogwarts teacher, and next we'll have the whole damn Ministry of Magic and their aurors on our tail. But that's what you want, isn't it? You don't care about restoring the Dark Lord as long as you have your Death Eaters to follow your moronic orders and wreak mayhem and call attention to themselves. Your demented and inflated ego will land us all in Azkaban before we have achieved anything. I am getting close to questioning your ability to lead."

Lepidus whipped out his wand, but before he managed to get a curse off Lucius had shouted "Expelliarmus!" and his opponent was thrown backwards scraping the floor with his robes, smacking into the muggle corpse, and losing his wand in the process. The other Death Eaters stepped in and separated them. Lepidus was too furious to talk. "You will regret that, Malfoy," he finally spluttered as two of the Death Eaters held him back.

Lucius tossed back his hair and sheathed his wand. It had felt good to finally give in to his anger and take it out on someone. Lepidus, however, was not done. When things had calmed down somewhat and everybody had returned to their places he swiveled back to the blond wizard. "You will meet with Sartorius, and you will put her under the _imperius_ curse at the least and make her reveal to you what she knows. I want no margin for doubt or error. If you fail I will take care of her myself and expel you from the Death Eaters. When the Dark Lord returns he will learn of your disobedience."

Lucius winced. 'Fat chance,' he thought as he remembered that Eleanor would probably never so much as even look at him voluntarily, but he had the sense to incline his head and keep his mouth shut. Thankfully Lepidus did not address him again that evening and he finally made his wet, cold and uncomfortable way home without any further incidents.

The next morning, in between sneezing and forcing down mouthfuls of a vile-tasting potion against colds, he wrote a letter to his London agent and gave Lewis Lark instructions on locating the bookstore that had belonged to Wilhelm Sartorius. Then he made his way down the chilly hallways to the dining room ignoring a serious case of sinus pain and steeling himself to bear his wife's incessant and vapid chatter over breakfast. He remembered Eleanor's visit, their conversation about alchemy and their subsequent entertainments with grim nostalgia.

* * *

Despite the fact that her students were more interested in muggle life than she had ever hoped, Eleanor found that her duties at the school had become a burden to her. Her mood got progressively worse the closer she got towards Friday evening, and she had to admit to herself, that she hated Lucius Malfoy as much for his betrayal as the for the fact that she was now prevented from ever seeing him again. She had really been looking forward to another night of abandoned love-making, which now would never be repeated.

To take her mind off her disappointment she immersed herself in the school library every free minute she had and began reading every scrap of writing about homunculi. If she was going to try and recover her grandfather's creation she needed to be better informed than the Death Eaters who were hunting for the same prize.

Friday night came and went while she kept tossing and turning in her own bed, trying not to think of a certain blond wizard and his amazing capabilities under the influence of vorax potion, and on Saturday noon she dragged herself to a late lunch in the great hall looking almost as exhausted as she had done on the same day the previous week.

Thankfully only a few teachers were sharing the high table with her, and Albus Dumbledore was not among them. Professor Sprout however waved to her, and as she sat down next to her, she pushed a page of the Daily Prophet towards her. "Look at this Eleanor," she said, and pointed at a large headline. "Someone really seems to have it in for your family. I wonder what's going on." Eleanor folded up a slice of dragon meat, basil and oregano pizza, pulled the paper over and chewed absent-mindedly while she began to read.

"Vicious Attack in the Hart of London

Last night a London bookstore was raided in an incident that bore all the marks of a magical attack. Several unknown persons broke into the _Four Elements Books and Curios_ shop on the Strand that is known among wizarding folk as a reliable supplier of magical books only second to the renowned _Flourish & Blotts_ on Diagon Alley, and that muggles frequent for esoteric literature, tarot decks and curios. The store was founded by a rather secretive member of the Sartorius family, Wilhelm Sartorius, who emigrated to England with his wife and daughter in 1974 in order to protect himself from You-Know-Who. He owned the store for several years with a muggle business partner named Oswald.

The present owner, Lisaberta Moffett, a respected witch, was not present during the early morning attack, but a muggle night-guard who patrolled the store and several other properties in the vicinity was callously killed using the unforgivable _avada kedavra_ curse. Nothing seemed to be missing according to Ms. Moffett, who this paper interviewed shortly after the raid. The chief auror in charge of the case warned the public not to jump to conclusions and to assume that the attack is related in any way to the willful destruction at the Sartorius home in Cologne the Daily Prophet reported on Monday.

'We simply do not know who we are dealing with, yet. There seem to be certain similarities, but we just don't have enough proof to either confirm or deny that theory. We are working very closely with our continental counterparts,' he told the _Daily Prophet_ during an exclusive interview. We will of course keep reporting on this horrible crime as new clues come to light and are publicized by the Ministry.'"

"Your pizza," warned Professor Sprout, but Eleanor did not hear her, nor did she pay attention to the steady drip of tomato sauce and cheese down the sleeve of her robe. "Thanks Pomona," she finally managed to squeeze out. "This is horrible, I need to find Marvin Oswald. Oh, Hecate, what a mess! It's all my fault. I'm going to kill Lucius! P-please excuse me." While the herbology witch stared at her uncomprehendingly, she dropped her half-eaten lunch back on her plate and sped from the dining hall.

"What's wrong with her?" asked a curious Professor Piotrofski from across the table. "Is the dragon meat off again?" Sprout shrugged her shoulders. "Beats me, Lana," she said. "I guess she knows something about the attack on that book store last night that even the _Daily Prophet_ is missing. Mind you, it was her dad's place originally."

Pitrofski raised a quizzical eyebrow and turned back to her meal. "I hope 'Lucius' does not mean Lucius-I'm-a-Death-Eater-bloody-Malfoy," murmured Pomona to herself as she pulled the newspaper back and remembered their encounter at the _Silver Teapot_ during the summer. She was still of the opinion that her colleague had looked rather disgustingly smitten with the dashing but villainous wizard.

Eleanor didn't remember how she got back to her room, but she had slammed the door behind her and now stood in the middle of her study, breathing hard and trying not to scream with anger and frustration. While she had lain awake during the night trying to fight her memories of his kisses, of the caresses of his knowing and powerful hands and of his naked body, Lucius had undoubtedly been out in London, breaking into the old Sartorius store, tearing the place up, hurling death-curses at muggles and searching for the homunculus.

And just days earlier he had had the gall to write her that stupid letter that had come with her cloak protesting his innocence. "Oh, you'll see me again, Lucius. Don't worry," she growled menacingly, so that Isis gave her a curious stare from her favorite spot in the inglenook. "You will come to regret your 'genuine attraction and the wish to be close to me'. In fact, you'll wish you'd never met me when I'm finished with you."

She tried to calm her breath and her thoughts and decide on her next steps. After she had read the article she was convinced that Marvin Oswald, her father's friend and former associate was in grave danger. She wondered what the moronic reporter from the _Daily Prophet_ had smoked to be so thoughtless and stupid as to publish Oswald's name when there were people like Lucius Malfoy and this Death Eater Lepidus about, who had no qualms about breaking, entering, abduction and murder. Did these idiots have no sense? Did they think just because Voldemort had disappeared the world was now a place of flowers, butterflies and goodwill?

Finally Eleanor decided that the only course of action she could take was to fly to London, locate Oswald, let the chief auror know about her suspicions and advise her father's friend to seek safety. She changed from her robe into practical muggle clothes: a pair of black denims with a belt that held her wand sheath, a thick grey turtleneck, heavy boots, a warm knee-long wool coat with a hood and some fur-lined mittens. Then she pocketed some galleons, pound notes and a credit card, mounted her broom, opened the window and jumped off the sill, catching herself halfway down the Hogwarts battlements in the cold October wind that stung her face and eyes.

By the time she flew over the outskirts of London she was thoroughly thankful for every stitch of clothing that covered her. She reinforced her invisibility spell as she moved her broom below the patchy grey cloud cover and raced towards her old home. Her father had kept his old business documents in the attic and Eleanor hoped that she would be able to find a location for Mr. Oswald. She prayed to the triple goddess that Mr. Oswald hadn't moved a lot over the last few years.

About an hour later she sat cross-legged under a dim light-bulb surrounded by old yellowing receipts, stock lists and book catalogues and stared at a small snippet of paper with a South Croydon address and phone number. "Please be there, please be there," she whispered as she climbed down the rickety ladder from the loft and made her way to the phone in her study.

It seemed to take an eternity until finally the answering machine picked up on her call. Mercifully the male voice on the other end did not just quote back the number she had dialed, but identified himself as Marvin Oswald. She left a breathless message telling Oswald who she was and warning him to get out of the house and go to the next police station or to contact the aurors at the Ministry. She wasn't sure how open her father had been with his associate about the wizarding world and hoped that if Oswald didn't have a clue about aurors he would simply ignore the bit about the Ministry and not dismiss her whole message as a demented prank.

Outside it was getting dusky. She needed to get to Croydon herself, in case Oswald missed her message or didn't believe her. She looked up the address in an old muggle street atlas, penned a quick note, grabbed her broom and left the house. A summoning spell in the front garden presently brought an owl to her that belonged to the official postal service and bore a ring with the crest of the WOM, the Wizarding Owl Mail. It folded its wings and perched on the banister of the stairs leading up to her front door, eying her with its serious, bright orange eyes. She put a few sickles of stamp money in the pouch it was carrying and tied the note to its leg.

"Get this to the auror in charge of last night's book store robbery at the Ministry of Magic, please. It's very urgent," she instructed the bird. "I've given you enough money for a class one priority delivery." The owl hooted at her softly, blinked its eyes and flew away while she protected herself with another invisibility spell and took off in the direction of Croydon.

The clouds had thinned and the air now held the promise of a night frost. A full moon rose over dark hills and glimmering streets as she finally circled over the small hamlet near Croydon where Oswald lived. She realized that the house she was looking for sat in an isolated spot behind a small wood. There were lights in some of the windows and she sighed as she realized that Mr. Oswald had to be home and therefore had either missed or ignored her message.

She touched down with a light crunch on a gravel path in front of the house, snuck around the side of the building and stowed her broom against a trellis with roses near the garage. Then she made herself visible, approached the front door and rang the doorbell. She could hear the noise of a chair being moved inside, and then a tiny elderly woman wearing a big purple dressing gown opened the front door and peered up at her.

She raised her hand to her mouth in a gesture of shocked surprise and then called back into the house. "Oh, Marvin, come quickly, it's Eleanor. The message wasn't a joke!" Then she waved to her visitor. "Come in, my dear, come in. My, you have grown!" She didn't wait for Eleanor to wipe her feet, but grabbed her hand and with surprising strength pulled her right into the hallway, slammed the door shut and reached up to give her a hearty hug.

An old man, not much taller than his wife, came up to them. He walked with a slight limp and sucked on an enormous, long pipe. Eleanor could not imagine a couple of muggles that looked more like wizarding folk. "Well, that's a nice surprise," said Mr. Oswald. "We haven't seen you since you were a little girl, just going off to Durmstrang you were. All nervous and excited, yes. And your poor mum and dad just besides themselves, afraid they'd made a mistake in sending you. They sat with us the evening after you'd left and drank three bottles of elderberry wine. They had to sleep in the guest bedroom. Couldn't stay upright on a broom, hm!"

He also hugged her with one hand, holding the pipe out of harm's way with the other, and then shot her a glance out of clear hazel eyes. "So what's this business about us having to leave our home and go to the police or warn the aurors? Sounds like some wizarding mischief."

Hurriedly Eleanor described what had happened, talking about the raid on the bookstore, the dead muggle guard and explaining about the Death Eaters and their quest for Falco's homunculus in order to rehouse Voldemort's disembodied spirit. She decided that if Mr. and Mrs. Oswald knew about Durmstrang and had watched her parents drink themselves under their table, they would not be shocked by tall tales about the Dark Lord or the illegal pursuits of her grandfather.

Old Oswald shook his head in disbelief. "Dreadful business," he exclaimed. "But what would they want with us? We don't have the homunculus. I know that your father talked about many things over the years, but he never mentioned anything dubious about his dad."

Eleanor felt herself grow impatient. "They don't care! They leader is a horrible wizard named George Lepidus. He will torture you until he is satisfied that you really don't know anything. He is evil! He won't listen to you! Nothing you'll say will convince him. They abduct and kill people, and if you are a muggle, they are merciless. Remember what they did to my uncle's family, and they were pureblood wizards. You need to leave until this is over. Please believe me!"

"Oh dear," sighed Mrs. Oswald and started shaking, tears were running down her wizened cheeks. Obviously the mention of Conrad Sartorius brought back memories for her. "Marvin, dear, she's right! Let's go and be safe. I know we're old and don't have long, but I don't want to go being cursed by some horrible Death Eater who killed poor Conrad and Lena and the babies." Her husband took a long suck from his pipe and almost disappeared behind smoke as he straightened himself. "Very well, Patsy. Let's get our coats and some sturdy shoes and get out. The police station is just through the trees on Hazel Grove. We can make it in twenty or thirty minutes or so."

Eleanor watched them get ready then kept them waiting in the hallway while she carefully snuck out of the house and checked for any intruders on the outside. Everything was quiet. She opened the door and waved the Oswalds out. "Walk as quickly as you can," she whispered. Don't look back or come back, even if you see lights and hear noises. Try to tell the police a story that doesn't get them straight out here. It's too dangerous for them. The Death Eaters will just kill them. I've owled the Ministry of Magic and they should be sending some aurors any minute." She walked with them to the edge of the wood, then took her leave. "Aren't you coming with us?" asked Mrs. Oswald nervously, wiping tears from her face. Eleanor shook her head. "I'll stay behind, keep them off your trail if they come. Be safe. I'm sorry I haven't visited sooner. May the gods bless you and protect you."


	10. A Fight in the Dark

**A Fight in the Dark**

_"Do not protect yourself by a fence, but rather by your friends." (Czech Proverb)_

With the Oswalds on their way to the local police station Eleanor headed back to the house. If everything had gone according to plan, the aurors should arrive soon, but she needed to be there when the Death Eaters flew in, just on the off chance that they would hunt after the couple. She had barely reached the front door when she saw a black shadow briefly obscuring the moonlight.

They had come, and they were earlier than she had expected. If they saw that the house was deserted they could still find the Oswalds now hurrying through the small wood separating their cottage from the rest of the village. They would no doubt torture them for information. She had to make a stand and protect them, distract the Death Eaters. She hid herself in the shadows around the front door and removed her wand from its sheath.

Looking up against the clear night sky she could see a group of nine wizards and witches approach on brooms, their long black cloaks billowing out behind them. It was a menacing sight. These men and women had a lot of experience in applying the dark arts, and she could not hope to defeat all of them. Still she had to try. She had put the Oswalds in harm's way by letting her desire for Lucius Malfoy rule her better judgment and making her fall prey to his deceptions and lies. As she was responsible for this mess, she would have to fix it or die trying in payment for her error.

When the Death Eaters sat down their brooms, she cast spells for her own protection and now glowing with a pale aura of energy stepped out of the shades as the boots of her attackers crunched on the gravel path before the house.

She lifted her wand and cast back the hood of her coat. "I am Eleanor Sartorius," she cried with a loud voice. "Here live wards of my family that I am sworn to protect and I say to you, you cannot pass!" For a moment the nine shadows recoiled in surprise. Then a harsh male voice answered her. "Get out of our way, witch, and we may be merciful and just kill you. Do not interfere with our business here." A masked figure stepped forward, but she did not recognize the voice, it was not Lucius.

She felt very afraid. Her stomach knotted, but she held her place. "You cannot pass!" she called again. The wizard who had challenged her now loomed above her, she looked at the expressionless surface of his black mask, caught the silvery glint of eyes behind the dark holes, and then he lifted his wand. She gritted her teeth, gripped her own wand and prepared for a counter curse. She knew she probably did not stand a chance. Where were the aurors?

At that moment there was movement at the wizard's back. Another of the dark robed figures darted forward and pushed her attacker out of the way. A split second later a man had taken his place before her, facing the leader, his arms stretched out protectively. "You will not harm her. I forbid it!" Lucius! What was he doing? He was challenging his own people? The leader had recovered his balance and now struck at Malfoy like a coiled snake. "You cursed traitor! I warned you before not to let this little worthless cunt rule your loyalty. You will pay for this!"

A split second later she felt Lucius turn and shove her out of the way with such force that she crashed into the hedge by the side of the path and toppled over. She could only watch helplessly as the leader leveled his wand at her lover and incanted the _cruciatus_ curse. Bright green light shot from the tip of the wand, enveloped her protector and threw him back with such force that he vaulted over her and disappeared in the shadows behind her. She could hear him cry in agony somewhere near her. At that moment a hoarse female voice among the Death Eaters screeched: "Aurors, coming in fast, defend yourselves, flee!" The leader cursed and tried to lead the group away, but it was too late, as a whole squad of Ministry employees apparated around them wielding their wands before the Death Eaters could organize themselves.

She crawled away on her hands and knees keeping a low profile and saw flashes of magical attack and defense bloom all around her. Cries, incantations and curses filled the air. Where was Lucius? Finally her searching hands touched a boot and as her eyes peered into the gloom she saw his outstretched figure quivering on the ground. His arms and legs seemed to strain as if he was bound to an invisible rack, he had quieted somewhat, but she suspected the pain had simply become too intense to allow him to even draw enough breath to manage to scream.

She grasped her wand and concentrated amidst the din. Undoing a _cruciatus_ curse was tricky business. Finally she decided to settle for a simple curse-breaker and whispered. "Maledictionem reverso!" As she directed her wand at the tortured figure before her she hoped no one had noticed the faint orange glow that gently settled on him, slowly dissolving the previous spell.

She saw his body slump and all of the muscle rigor drain out of him as the effect of the spell subsided. He rolled over to his side and curled up in a fetal position. She sheathed her wand and moved to his side. A quick glance up showed her that the main battle had moved off over to the other side of the house.

For a moment she considered sneaking back to the garage where she had left her broom and taking off while everyone was busy. The aurors would arrest the whole pack, Marvin and Patsy Oswald would be safe and no one ever needed to know about her involvement. Lucius would get what he deserved for using and deceiving her.

Then she took another look at the man before her, and for a moment she remembered the way he had kissed her and carried her, the way he had looked at her as their eyes had met just before they had drunk the potion, and the touch of his body during their lovemaking. She saw him as he had stood before her just a few minutes ago, willing to betray his associates, willing to face horrible punishment just to keep her safe.

"Damn you," she sighed and brought her face close to his, loosened the dark mask that covered him. His eyes were closed tightly and the wet glint of moonlight on his cheeks showed that he had been crying with pain.

"Lucius, nod if you can hear me." An almost imperceptible movement of his head answered her. "Lucius, I am getting you out of here. Where's your broom?" He made a soft, inarticulate sound, then tried again. "Can't ride," he managed to squeeze out between clenched teeth. "I know, but we can't leave the evidence. The aurors will know who it belongs to." "Cherry tree at the garden gate," he hissed. "Keep hidden. I'll be back," she whispered.

She got up into a crouch, thankful for her dark practical muggle clothes, dashed down the side of the garden in the shade of the hedge and managed to get to the gate. The sound of battle seemed to move closer again. She darted over to the tree and exhaled in relief as her hand closed around the sturdy stick of a black, silver ornamented broom. Next she quickly scurried over to the garage to retrieve her own.

Back at his side she saw that he had managed to lift himself on his hands and knees. She touched him. "Lucius it's me, I've found it. Let's go." He looked at her now, wiped the hem of his cloak over his face. "I can't even stand," he groaned quietly. "Leave me, get out of here, for Hecate's sake!" "No way," she hissed. "I have matters to settle with you. I'll be damned if I let the aurors get you. Now get on your feet and stop whining."

She grabbed him by his robes and he finally cooperated by placing his hands on her shoulders and trying to push himself up. He was heavier than she had thought and she had to fight to stay on her feet, but finally he was standing before her, swaying as he tried to keep his legs under him. She stepped around him until her chest touched his back, clasped him around the waist and pushed the handle of her broom between their legs.

"Ready?" He nodded shakily. "Invisibilis," she murmured, hoping that none of the aurors would bother to cast counter spells to see if any of the Death Eaters were trying to escape under an invisibility charm. Levitating two people on a broom was hard, and she found that they took to the air quite sluggishly, but finally they cleared the tree line and she tried to keep herself balanced and the swaying Lucius from tipping sideways off the broom.

As they left the area of the battle, she started to think. Going to Hogwarts with Lucius in his present state was out of the question, and Malfoy Manor might actually be watched, as Dumbledore seemed to have both contacts among Ministry operatives and well-founded suspicions about Lucius. So the only option that remained to her was her old house in London. At least it would keep the aurors and any remaining Death Eaters off their back until Lucius had recovered somewhat.

The long night flight was hard. Madame Hooch would have probably given her a "Troll"-grade for style, grace and balance, but somehow she managed to keep her passenger from falling and the rather stubborn Malfoy broom in her left hand from taking off on its own. Finally she saw her familiar street underneath, dipped under the branches of the large chestnut tree in the front yard, and landed inside the gate.

The icy night air seemed to have revived Lucius somewhat. At least he was able to stand up by himself as she set down and dismounted her broom. He turned and looked at her. "Where are we?" he asked. "Where I used to live before I came to Hogwarts. Hopefully they won't be looking for us here. It's Sunday tomorrow, so I can stay away from the school without being missed. Let's go inside." She handed Lucius his broom, which he promptly used as a prop to keep himself upright and walked up to the house. The door opened at her spell and they stepped inside. As she found the light switch in the dark the small hall light came on.

She took a look at her companion. Lucius was leaning against the wall, his proud face chalk white, and there was blood on his lips where he had bitten himself in his agony. He was watching her out of sunken, red-rimmed eyes. It would be so easy to forget everything, forgive everything and just feel pity for him, but then she remembered how he had deceived her regarding the homunculus and she thought of old Mrs. Oswald's tearful frightened eyes and her anger flared up again.

"You cheating, lying, deceitful bastard. You really don't have a shred of honor," she snarled at him as she yanked off her mittens and jacket. "You fucked me over any way you could think of. That's why you really gave me the book, didn't you? You already knew about Falco's experiment. And like a fool I gave you and your scum friends the information about the homunculus. Hell, I almost had my father's friends killed, because I trusted you. Don't worry, I'm mostly angry at myself for being such an idiot. But believe me, I won't make the same mistake twice. You can recover here, I owe you that for deflecting the _cruciatus_ curse. But after that I never want to see you again or I promise I will drag your ass down to Azkaban myself."

Furious, she threw her coat over the clothes rack and turned to him. She almost wished again that she had left him behind. But then she saw his face and stopped cold at the expression of hurt in his eyes. "Eleanor," his voice was still hoarse from screaming. "It wasn't like that. Please, you must believe me, I never wanted…" He trailed off as his legs finally gave out under him. His eyes rolled back and he slid down the wall until he landed in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"Oh crap," she sighed. "Way to get out of an argument." She knelt down, pushed her hands under his arms, folded them over his chest and dragged him down the hallway to the living room. She leaned him up against her shinbones, unfastened and folded his long black robes, heaved him onto the sofa and pulled off his mud stained boots.

For a moment she looked at him lying there, wearing simple black pants and a black shirt, his pale face framed by his tangled mane of blond hair, his eyes closed. She saw lines on his face she had not noticed before, a single steep vertical frown-line over his arched patrician nose, fine creases tracing from his curved nostrils down to the edges of his mouth, crow's feet around his eyes. Once again she heard his voice calling out to the other Death Eaters. 'You shall not harm her.' What was going on? What was he playing at?

Her head hurt, she felt cold. She went back to the hallway, kicked off her own shoes, padded into the kitchen and filled a glass with water. She set it down on the coffee table in the living room next to Lucius and then indulged herself once by bending over him and gently stroking over his high forehead and brushing his hair back. She thought for a minute, then pulled out her wand. "Instauro argutiam," she murmured softly. Perhaps that would help him fight some of the weakness from the cruciatus curse. Finally she picked up a blanket from one of the chairs and spread it over him.

Exhausted, she climbed up the stairs to her bedroom, undressed, had a quick shower, as hot as she could stand it, muffled herself in a thick red tartan flannel pajama she found in her wardrobe and crept under the blankets of her bed. She didn't even remember lying down before she fell into a deep dreamless sleep.


	11. Grey Morning

**Grey Morning**

_"Some believe all that parents, tutors, and kindred believe. They take their principles by inheritance, and defend them as they would their estates, because they are born heirs to them." (Alan Watts)_

As quickly as she had gone to sleep she awoke, there was no slow drifting back to consciousness, but instead she felt a sharp and clear state of wakefulness. Grey dawn light illuminated the bedroom, and as she quickly glanced around, she saw Lucius sitting on the edge of her bed in the half-darkness looking at her intently. He was wearing the dark pants and shirt from the night before and still had assorted pieces of twigs and a few leaves stuck in his hair from when the _cruciatus_ curse had landed him in the Oswald's shrubs.

"Hecate! How long have you been here?" she asked. "A while," he replied calmly. By the way she could see the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement he seemed to feel much better. "Very sharp sleeping dress," he announced. "Another muggle invention?" She sat up, looking down at her rather hideous pajama top that furiously clashed with her red hair. Trying to summon her anger from the night before, she glared at him. "Have I told you that you look absolutely ravishing when you are just awake and trying to look furious?" he purred.

It would be so easy to fall in with his suggestive banter, but her anger and disappointment were still too strong. She refused to smile and looked at him. "Lucius, I wasn't kidding last night. As far as I know, you established and then abused our relationship to simply obtain information to further your plans. Right now I'm not pretending to be angry, I feel used, and I am pissed off as hell about it. In fact I'm close to thinking that your bastard friend last night made the right choice by sending a _crucio_ your way."

He was looking instantly sobered. "Eleanor, I wrote you before and I attempted to tell you yesterday, that what you suspect isn't true. I did not try and get to know you so I could use you to get to Falco's experiment. Will you listen to me and at least give me the benefit of the doubt?"

She nodded slowly. "This better be good, Lucius," she growled. He took a moment to move so that he faced her. Finally he had pulled his bare feet underneath him and sat cross-legged on the bed, his long hands folded in his lap.

"When I picked out your grandfather's book from my library, I knew nothing more about you than what you had told me a few weeks earlier in Diagon Alley and what is generally known about the Sartorius family. I wanted to see you again, because you intrigued me: pureblood, beautiful, one of the few people who would meet my eyes and not seem intimidated.

Then the night after we parted at Hogwarts I got a summons from the Death Eaters and was told about the recovery of a letter written by Falco, where he explained that he had managed to create a stage one homunculus. He must have put that humus theory of his to the test, and it worked. George Lepidus, the chief Death Eater – the guy with the _cruciatus_ – already knew you were at Hogwarts, so I fed him some lines that you were practically a muggle and would have absolutely no idea what a homunculus even was."

"Very noble of you," she interrupted. "But when we met again you didn't bother to tell me any of that, did you? You just asked me questions about the homunculus, and if I had known more at the time, I would have told you everything. Then, just mere minutes after that, in bed, you had the guts to ask me whether I trusted you. What a fucking mind-job!"

He looked at her, grey eyes studying her face. "Yes, I did, and I recall you saying that you only trusted me for the night – and you still opened you eyes mere seconds after that. Don't tell me that you went into this blindly."

She pulled at the sleeve of her pajama, averting her face. "Maybe not," she said. He continued. "Even then I told Lepidus that you were clueless. I did mention the bookstore, but he figured out the Oswald connection for himself. The idiots at the _Daily Prophet_ had it all over the paper. It was easy to put the pieces together. I actually tried to owl you when I realized he would raid the man's house."

She glared at him. "Prove it, I never got an owl. These people would have been killed if Professor Sprout hadn't shown me the paper, and I hadn't read the auction catalog and the report on the Cologne raid."

Lucius looked down and pulled a mottled piece of parchment from his pant pocket. "Here," he said and handed it to her. She held it up to read it, noticing that the stains had the dark brown color of dried blood. The message was short and anonymous.

'Your past has returned with a vengeance. Old friends of your father's are in danger. There will be a raid on the Oswalds the night of the full moon. Get help and protect yourself. Your enemies are powerful. You may not believe me, but I want to help you.'

She shook her head. "Well, better late then never, I guess. Then again you could have just fabricated that – with some blood for effect." She saw fierceness in the slant of his brows now. "I picked it off my dead owl yesterday afternoon before the raid. He lay on the lawn behind the house with a black bolt from a crossbow through his chest."

She regretted her harsh remarks immediately. "Your beautiful eagle owl was shot? Lucius, I am sorry." She had grown to like the strong and powerful animal, messenger of his letters and so like his proud and independent owner. To her relief he shook his head. "No, I did not send Hermes. I used an old barn owl I've had for years. Hermes would have been recognized as mine immediately. Not many people use eagle owls. They are hard to tame."

They both fell silent. Finally she spoke. "Lucius, you could have told me some of this before. You could have told me the evening we met at your house." He looked at her. "Yes, I could have," he finally admitted, looking tired. "I guess I was too busy planning to get laid. Now I have Lepidus in a murderous fury at me for giving away out plot and refusing to harm you. He must have watched me and shot the owl. If the aurors haven't got him, he'll be after us. And you've decided to sit on your high horse, because I am not as good, honest and forthright as you wanted me to be. By Azrael! Who do you take me for?"

He watched her as she lowered her head, then faced him. She did not seem mad any more, but somehow cooled and closed against him. He found that he preferred her anger. "You are right. You are Lucius Malfoy. I knew that when I first decided I would get myself involved with you. I was stupid enough to allow you to increase my expectations – particularly when you stepped in front of me to take the _cruciatus_ in my stead."

"You could have left me behind," he said. Her eyes narrowed. "You are better in bed than that. You'd be wasted in Azkaban," she replied coldly. He realized the calculated cruelty of the remark could have come from his own lips. It hurt. "That's why you did it?" he asked.

For a moment her face softened. Her voice sounded brittle as she answered him. She had always been honest with him, and even now she would not hide behind a lie, just to inflict pain. "In all the time I've known you I have not met a single witch or wizard who had anything good to say about you. As a matter of fact, your ability to piss everybody off seems to be legend as I can now say from personal experience. Yet I knew I wanted you. I still want you. It's hard to want someone you cannot let yourself care about. If I was better at that sort of thing, I would not be angry with you right now. I would realize that I had got exactly what I came for, no more, no less, and that you were blameless for being who you are."

His ears rang. That was as close as her pride and sense of self-protection would probably ever let her get to telling him she cared about him. It soothed some of the wounds her angry letter that had accompanied his returned gifts had caused. She continued. "Then again, maybe you are not too good at this either. Or you'd have stood aside and let Lepidus take me apart. It would have protected you with the Death Eaters. That's why I took you with me last night."

"Thank you," he said quietly, and she realized he was grateful for the rescue as much as for what she had just told him. "There may not be a single witch or wizard with anything good to say about me, and they are probably right, but for all it's worth I will not allow anyone to hurt you." She met his eyes. "I will hold you to that," she said.

He sat up straighter, ran his hand through his hair and absentmindedly picked out a twig. "So, what do you plan to do now?" he asked. She took a deep breath. "I need to get the homunculus back in order to destroy it and undo the damage my grandfather has done. I know you want to find it for the Death Eaters and for Voldemort." He flinched at the mention of the name. "So I guess we will be opponents. Our truce will end once we leave this house." He tilted his head. "Do we have to be?" he asked her. "As I asked you before, why won't you join us? We don't have to be enemies, actually I much prefer you as a lover."

She smoothed her hand over the sheets. "I can't, Lucius. You have always maintained how important it is to meet the demands of your family, to be aware of your ancestry and preserve the honor of the bloodline. So you should understand my motivation. The Sartorius are enemies of Voldemort. I cannot make a decision that will render meaningless the sacrifice of my uncle's family. I will not be branded, and I will not be commanded by someone like Voldemort or, worse, by his stand-in Lepidus. How can you have scum like him for a leader? Hell, you have compromised your own loyalty already. If anything leave the Death Eaters and help me instead. I'd much rather have you as a lover as well."

He shook his head. "Same as you, I have made commitments to my family. I swore to my father, I swore to the Dark Lord. You don't know some of the oaths we Malfoys have and swear. I have too much invested in this. You are right, I have stood up to Lepidus and I intend to fight him and replace him if he is still at large. I have hated him for a long time, but I cannot betray the Dark Mark that I bear."

She looked at him. "Will you fight me over the homunculus, then? Would you kill me to save it, to take it for the Death Eaters, for your master? What of your promise not to let anyone hurt me?" "I will not and no one else will touch you, as long as I can protect you," he said forcefully.

"Why is that so important to you," she asked. "You have just confirmed your commitment to the Death Eaters and to Voldemort. That must mean murder, torture, rape should be routine for you. Why the sudden restraint and nobility?" He glared at her now. "You don't know what you are talking about! You don't know me at all!" "Come on," she goaded him. "You're telling me you can serve your Dark Lord and never…" "Shut up!" he exploded. "You have no idea what I am capable of and where my boundaries lie. How dare you…" She interrupted him. "That's all bluster, Lucius. Come on, how far would you really go?"

He stared at her. "Let me tell you about how far I'd go." She felt cold fury in his voice. "I was 17 years old. The year before my father had presented me to the Dark Lord and I had been given the mark. I was the youngest of our group and my father was proud, because of the trust that the Dark Lord had placed in his house.

Finally it was time for me to participate in my first raid. It was summer and we were attacking the Lentings, mudbloods, who had crossed us in some matter I did not know about. We surprised them in the early hours of the morning and rounded up the whole family. My father and Lepidus led the mission, and while they went off with the parents and children they threw the oldest daughter to us youngsters who had joined them. I still remember Lepidus looking at the five of us, Crabbe, Goyle, Mulciber, Lestrange and myself as he held her and invited us to have some fun. Her mother kept pleading with him and with us, until he struck her down."

Eleanor shivered. She was not sure if she wanted to hear the story, but Lucius continued with angry, stubborn determination. "Lestrange, who is now my sister-in-law's husband and who was a bit older than us and something of a leader of our group took the girl and marched us off. I could see that Crabbe and Goyle were excited, looking forward to taking her. Mulciber seemed pretty quiet and I watched them as I followed.

When we reached a small clearing behind the house the other boys got to work. The girl was crying and begging them, but Lestrage kept hitting her until she was just wailing and sobbing. I hated the noises she made. He had her first with Crabbe and Goyle holding her down. Then they switched round. I sat to the side of the clearing trying to shut out what was happening. In the distance I could hear screams from the other Lenting family members. I knew the girl. She was a Hufflepuff, one year below me in school. We had actually fooled around a couple of times under the stands of the quiddich pitch before the summer holidays. I had not given it much thought, as she was a mudblood, but she was pretty looking."

"Lucius, please," said Eleanor. "You don't have to…" He lifted a hand. "I want to, I need you to understand. After a while Lestrange came over to me. 'What's up Malfoy?' he asked me. 'Mulciber is a real faggott, couldn't even get it up. You going to sit here and mope? Come on and get some before she's completely messed up.' He was about nineteen at the time, a good head taller than me and stronger, and he simply lifted me up by the collar of my cloak. The next moment he had walked me across the clearing and had thrown me to my knees next to her.

She was clearly visible in the moonlight, but didn't look anything like I remembered her. They had destroyed her face. Her white nightgown was ripped apart down the whole front and mottled with blood everywhere. Crabbe still made a show of holding her down, even though she seemed half unconscious with craziness and pain by now. Goyle was taunting Mulciber who was on his knees off to the side puking his guts up.

I pulled off my mask, stretched out a hand, bent down to her and touched her arm. 'Marcia,' I whispered. She tried to open one of her blackened, swollen eyes and seemed to recognize me. She could barely talk as she quietly said my name. Then her hand tried to pull me towards her by my robes. Crabbe hit her. Lestrange gave me a lazy kick. 'Are you going to make polite conversation or are you going to fuck her, Malfoy? Some of us are waiting, you know!' I had my face right next to hers now and I heard her try to whisper to me. 'Kill, me Lucius, please. Just kill me.'"

He watched as Eleanor bit her lips. Her hands were balled to fists over the bed sheets, her knuckles outlined in white under her skin. "I knew what would happen, but I felt under my cloak and secretly got hold of my wand. Then, before anyone could stop me I sat up, pointed my wand at her and spoke the _avada kedavra_ curse. She shuddered once and lay still. She was my first kill.

When the others had finished beating the crap out of me they dragged me back to the main group. Lestrange told my father and Lepidus exactly what had happened. I remember Marcia's mother scream and faint as she heard. She was barely alive herself at that point. My father was furious with me for disgracing him in front of the others. When he put me under the _cruciatus_, it carried so much force that I convulsed hard enough to break my own arm."

As he finished his story, she looked at him pale and wide-eyed. "Lucius I…" He cut her off, trembling with the anger of his memories. "Don't you dare pity them, or pity me! They were stupid, idiotic mudbloods daring to stand up to us and dooming themselves to death. I knew exactly what I was doing and what my punishment would be. I never took a woman against her will after that, because of what I had seen, because of the way Marcia Lenting died. So don't you dare pass judgment on me and question me on what I would and what I would not do. You have no idea!"

They both fell silent for a while, and when he spoke again his voice was calmer. "I offer you a fair competition instead of hostility. That is more than I have ever given anyone who would not join me and dared to openly oppose me. I'd rather you were with me, but I can respect your reasons. I will never forget that you rescued me and I will protect you against any other who would harm you. I do not make this promise as a Death Eater, but as a Malfoy."

She nodded slowly, sobered by what she now knew about him. "A fair competition it will be. And a truce while we are here. And if you need help with Lepidus, let me know. No one calls me names to my face, defiles what is mine or threatens my friends. I would take pleasure in aiding you with him." He gave her an appreciative look. "Spoken like a witch of the old houses," he said. "I will enjoy joining your revenge on him."

Again he pulled a piece of the Oswald's garden from his tangled blond hair and looked at it with a brief twist of his upper lip. "How many are there?" he asked testily before dropping it on her comforter. "Too many," she said. "And stop leaving them all over the place. This is a muggle house without house-elves. I need to clean up my own messes." He looked at her. "How inconvenient. So your parents forced you to be your own servant, even though they could have provided better? That's rather perverse, wouldn't you say?" She shook her head at him. "Let's not do this, Lucius. You just told me your father took you out raping and pillaging and put you under the _cruciatus_. I don't think we should start to compare notes." He inclined his head to concede that she might have a point. "At least it seems we're back on speaking terms," he finally said.

She thought about it and found that while she was still somewhat disappointed and certainly more cautious, she realized that her anger had evaporated. He could have been more forthcoming, but she believed him that he had not plotted to deceive her from the start. She was surprised at the amount of relief she felt at that thought. He must have seen some of her emotions reflected on her face, for he stretched out a hand. "Can we pick up where we left off the Friday before last?" he asked, looking actually a little anxious now.

She exhaled, realizing that she wanted to do nothing more than that. "I'd love to," she finally admitted. "But if I find that you are abusing the situation again in any way, I will not be so forgiving."

It was fully light in her bedroom now and through the curtains she could see that it would be a clear and crisp day. She pushed her hair back and looked at him as he still sat cross-legged on her bed. His face looked much better than she remembered it from the evening before, his pale skin had some color again, and the whites of his eyes were clear.

However, she pursed her lips as she took in how disheveled he still appeared compared to his usual tastefully dressed and groomed self. His shirt and pants were spattered with mud and creased from having been slept in. His hands and face still showed streaks of dirt and tears, and his unkempt hair needed probably not just a good brush, but a wash as well. "We should get you cleaned up," she suggested, "before this place starts to look like my backyard." He raised his eyebrows. "Only if you join me," he challenged her. "Muggle invention or not, I need to get you out of this weird red thing you are wearing. It is hideous."

She made a mock bow to him, then pushed back her covers and hunted for her slippers in front of the bed. "Look who's speaking," she grinned. He followed her as she led the way to her bathroom, a rather modest affair compared to his own. The bath would never hold two people, but whoever had built out the original Victorian set-up had decided to put in a rather generous shower.

She turned back to him. "How about a shower?" she suggested. He gave her a puzzled look. "It's not raining," he objected, and she realized that a shower was probably both too novel and too much of a muggle invention for Lucius to be aware of. After all, Malfoy Manor seemed to have no electricity or gas, either, despite the fact that some wizards, especially those related to muggles, had adopted it for many years. So she walked over and opened the door of the large glass stall in the corner with a flourish.

"May I introduce another muggle invention: the instant hot shower. No magic at all involved." She twisted the taps and closed the door again to give the water a chance to heat up. "Interesting," the blond wizard admitted. "I assume the etiquette is similar to bathing." He moved up to her. "As in undressing first…" His grey eyes narrowed suggestively. She nodded as his fingers started curling around her buttons that fastened her pajama jacket and he pulled her to him for a kiss. Great Isis, she had missed him!

Without breaking their kiss they each battled with the other's buttons and clothes until he had got the red flannel top off her and she had pushed the black silk of his shirt from his shoulders. She ran her hands over his naked chest while he slipped out of the cuffs and then encircled her with his bare arms to crush her to him. She could feel his greed in every movement as his hands roamed all over her and his lips moved across her face only to return again and again to her mouth.

Despite the distractions they finally managed to get the rest of their clothes off them, and as she took a step back to disentangle her feet from her pajama bottoms pooling on the floor, she looked at him. Even without the enhancement of vorax the sight of his body quickened her breath, but then she reached out a hand and ran her fingertips over his heart. Just above, where the full force of Lepidus curse had hit him, his skin was bruised and mottled with purple and black.

"That should be on me," she said quietly. He grasped her tentative fingers with his and pressed her hand flat against his ribs looking at her. "You know, it's fine the way it is. Otherwise I would not be able to do this without you complaining." Before she could ask what 'it' was, he had moved in and started to kiss and caress her breasts. As she gasped under the force and pleasure of his attentions she decided that perhaps someone like Lucius, who seemed to have been weaned on violence had learned to put up with it and to take from life what he could, despite of it. It still beat the attitude of someone like his leader, Lepidus, who seemed to actively seek out violence and pain for others, because he enjoyed inflicting it.

The bathroom was getting steamy now. Eleanor blindly fumbled for the shower door and opened it. Without actually breaking contact they felt their way over the lip of the basin and into the hot, stinging jets. For a moment Lucius turned into the full blast of the water. She watched him as he let the shower hit his face, eyes closed, breathing through his mouth, his blond hair slicked down his back, drops drumming on his chest. She grinned at the pure animal enjoyment he seemed to take from it. Then his left hand felt for her again while he dashed the water from his eyes with his right. "Well, what you think of this invention?" she asked. He grinned, pulling her close and stepping back into the water with her. "Ties with the thong," he announced as he began to kiss her again.

She lost count of time as their water-slicked bodies moved and slipped against each other. At one point, impatient at having his erect cock stand as a barrier between them, she had reached down and pushed his tip between her legs, so he now lay enclosed between the soft skin at the juncture of her thighs, her lips rubbing over his top every time she moved her hips against his.

She teased him this way until he threw his head back and she licked and nipped his Adam's apple and the tendons at his neck. Finally, when he looked down again and his grey eyes came to focus on her, she read purpose in them. For a moment he cast a searching glance around the glass stall now shrouded in billows of steam, then she felt herself being backed up against one of the walls until her ass and back made contact with the surprisingly cool tiles. She gasped, but he pressed on. His face moved to her ear.

"I'm not asking for trust this time," he murmured. "But I need your cooperation." She nodded, one side of her getting cooked right now, the other frozen. Still she found that the different sensations served to arouse her even further. She was quite certain that cooperation should not be a problem at this point.

"Hold on to my shoulders," he directed her. When she had a firm grip his hands reached down and parted her legs. He moved is arms between her thighs, then curved his wrists so his hands grasped her hips. For a second she felt him relax his knees in a slight crouch, and the next moment he had hoisted her up against the wall with a grunt. She bit down on a squeak of surprise as she now found herself halfway up the stall, her thighs supported by his forearms, feet dangling off the ground and her center spread and open for him. She knew from before that he could carry her, but this seemed to be a challenge of a different sort. Her face was now slightly elevated above his and he looked up at her with an amused curl of his lips.

"Comfortable?" he asked. "Asking me, or your knees?" she gasped, peering down. He shook his head. "Now here is the cooperation part," he continued, trying to breathe evenly. "I seem to have my hands full at the moment, so as I lower you, you'll have to help me. Ready?" She felt her back slip down the tiles, reached down between them and placed the tip of his cock at her entrance. From then on, she realized, Lucius controlled the game.

To feel him slowly, sensuously slide into her the first time was simply delicious. She closed her eyes and savored the sensation. Hot water enveloped her, streamed over her in breathtaking sheets, contrasted with the cold hardness at her back. Lucius' body consisted of the hard bone and muscle of his supporting arms, the light touch of skin where his body made contact with hers, the insistent pressure of his fingers on her hips, his lips on her mouth and the solid length of his erection filling her.

He gave her and perhaps himself a few moments to adjust. Then she could feel him pull back his hips and move forward into her again, harder this time, faster and more insistent. She opened her eyes, blinking water from her lashes. His face was mere inches from hers, his grey eyes looking into hers, his lips parted over clamped teeth.

As he started fucking her in earnest, he never broke contact, and she felt his insistent gaze almost as a provocation. Soon she found that she had to let go of his shoulders and lay her arms flat against the wall by her sides to give herself some leverage as she pushed against him and met each of his thrusts. They were both panting with exertion in the saturated air. His rhythm became even rougher and more insistent.

"Touch yourself," he gritted out. She left one arm in place and snaked her right hand between them, teasing her bud above his shaft. He glanced down briefly to follow her movements, but then his eyes moved back to hers. She felt exposed under his stare, but did not back down or close her eyes. The arousal building in her must have shown in her face, because he nodded curtly.

The next minute she had her legs wrapped around him, her heels drumming on his butt, toes curling, hands back on his shoulders, curving herself around him, as her eyes finally slipped shut and she convulsed around him, screaming his name. Seconds later he joined her, slamming both of them into the wall one last time as he shouted in his release.

She came round when she felt herself listing sideways somewhat. It seemed that he was in the process of losing his balance. "Hey," she slapped his back. "Drop me and I'll hex you," she threatened. With a grunt and an effort he managed to get his buckling legs back under him. His eyes met hers once more and she found it hard to interpret their expression. They seemed sated, but she was almost sure she also saw a glow of triumph in their cloudy depths. He moved in for a kiss, then withdrew and gently lowered her to the ground until her feet came to rest on the floor.

She stood slightly shakily, holding on to him for support. "Very inventive," she praised him. "You know you have a real knack for dealing with muggle artifacts." He lightly pinched her right nipple. "Now, now," he chided her. "No need to become insulting."

She gave him a seductive smile. "Time for me to indulge you," she promised. With that she reached up to a small shelf and retrieved a bottle of shampoo. "Turn round," she instructed him. He cast a dubious glance at the brightly colored muggle bottle in her hand that read 'Body Shop', but complied. Seconds later the aroma of chamomile blended with the water steam in the stall and he felt her reach up and lace her hands in his hair.

He held still as she first worked up a good lather and then began to expertly massage his scalp, her hands applying pressure in all the right places. As she alternated between lightly raking her nails across his skin and pushing with the flats of her fingers, her breasts and stomach occasionally grazed his back and ass. He closed his eyes, supported himself against the wall with one arm and drank in the sensuous laziness of her movements.

Finally she stopped and broke contact for a moment. He was ready to turn to see what was keeping her, when she suddenly molded her whole front to his back, and as she slowly rubbed against him, he realized she was slippery with soap. At the same time her hands snaked round his front, covered in suds as she started washing him. He sighed contentedly and gave her roaming hands ready access.

When she was done, she pulled them both right under the jets of water. He moved so he was facing her and kissed her through wetness, soap bubbles and hair washed forwards over their faces until they were both out of breath. She giggled, green eyes sparkling as she looked at him and he found himself grinning at her. It felt disturbingly weird. He could not remember the last time he'd been genuinely happy like this.

By the time he had returned the favor the water supply seemed to have become somewhat unpredictable. After a few intervals of markedly cooler jets, she gave him a shrug and an apologetic smile. "Time to get out of here, I'm afraid. The place is rather old and the water heater somewhat temperamental." He raised a questioning eyebrow, trying to picture what a being called a water heater would look like, but decided that muggle inventions were simply too weird to bother.

She switched off the water, padded out of the shower and over to a small cabinet and threw him some towels. They dried each other, exhausted now in the humid air. As she slipped back into her muggle clothes from the day before he used his wand to restore his shirt and pants to wearable condition. Then she led him downstairs to the kitchen.

He looked around, while she busied herself making some tea. "So this is where you grew up?" he asked, playing with a light switch and surveying the strange metallic objects sitting on the kitchen counter. The whole setup reminded him of some demented alchemist's experiment. She nodded. "I was small enough when we moved in to think this was home." "Did you ever visit your old family house in Cologne?" "Yes, years later during my summer vacations at Durmstrang. The place was already a museum by then."

She had finished her survey of drawers and cupboards. "Lucius, I'm out of everything. I threw all the perishables away when I went to Hogwarts. I'll go out and get a few things. Shop's just around the corner. Have some tea." He heard her put on shoes and a coat in the hallway and then the slam of the front door. He settled at the table, cradling a hot mug in his long fingers and stretching his boot-clad legs under the table.

He still found the corners of his mouth turning in a smile. He had finally made her call his name. He had waited for it during their first night together, but had been disappointed. Just now, in the shower, however, she had come with his name on her lips, just as she had done when he had been skrying on her for the first time.


	12. The Obscuroom

**The Obscuroom**

"_Three may keep a secret if two of them are dead." (Benjamin Franklin)_

A little while later the kitchen was suffused with the smells of a delicious cooked breakfast, and Lucius had to admit that growing up without magic or house elves made for the acquisition of a few rather curious but valuable talents. He now knew the intricacies of cooking proper scrambled eggs. Eleanor, who was sitting opposite him at the large kitchen table reached over and handed him another piece of toast that miraculously kept popping out of a metal box on the counter behind her.

"So, what are you going to do next?" she asked him. He slathered butter on his toast. "Well, I will first need to find out how the fight between the aurors and our group ended. Ideally they would have killed Lepidus – by accident of course – and the others got away. Worst case, Lepidus is at large, they have caught the others, and someone's going to squeal, naming me in the process. I may find a warrant out from the Ministry when I get home. Horrible nuisance. It will take rather a lot of money and a ton of work from our family advocatus to get off. Plus Narcissa will be in hysterics, and I'll never hear the end of it. Excuse me, please. I really made a bargain with myself not to mention her."

He spread some orange marmalade on the toast and took a bite, ordering his thoughts while he chewed. The aurors knew how to make someone talk. Veritaserum could legally only be used with an advocatus present, but regulations were circumvented in certain situations. If all else failed, "accidentally" locking someone up with a Dementor for a few hours without their wand usually did the trick. He had been through that particular experience when Voldemort got destroyed and all Death Eaters were rounded up. The shrouded figure had sat silently next to him where he was lying on the floor in restraints.

He was suddenly six years old. His father had just caned him, mercilessly, and locked him into the old cupboard in his study. He sat cramped in the dark little space, carefully avoiding the touch of the terrible, filthy things his father kept in there. Even so he felt cold spidery claws examine him, heard whispers and rustlings. His back felt like fire, but he would not cry. He knew from before that in this place among the dead parchment, they feasted on his tears. He clenched his teeth, rocked back and forth.

The image had overwhelmed him, as his world had shrunk to that dark place in which he would remain for all eternity; and he would have told them almost anything, not to have to go through that again. Fortunately Advocatus Tethering, who had been the family lawyer for a long time, had got him off. He had argued influence by the imperius curse. Others, like his sister-in-law, Bellatrix Lestrange, had not been so lucky.

Eleanor was watching her lover intently. His cool assessment of the situation had struck her as rather callous and she was surprised at the lack of loyalty among the individual Death Eaters. Then again, probably everyone was in it for themselves, hoping for an increase of influence and power and only compelled to act together by their shared interest and by their fear of the Dark Lord.

Lucius was eating quietly and looked like he had just immersed himself in some rather unpleasant thoughts. Well, the prospect of ending up in Azkaban, turned in by his precious friends and being yelled at by Narcissa probably didn't have much appeal.

She was more worried by the prospect of George Lepidus out there, searching for her. He was one wizard she didn't care to meet ever again. She had a hunch, however, that both she and Lucius would be seeing more of him. People like Lepidus never went quietly.

She refilled their tea mugs and concentrated on breakfast, when he interrupted her. "What will you do?" Then in an afterthought he lifted his palms at her. "Not meaning to spy on you." She considered. "Well, I need to get back to Hogwarts. There's school tomorrow. I will get in touch with the Oswalds and see how they are doing. Then I would be interested in the same questions you are. Especially in who got caught and who didn't. I didn't reveal myself to the aurors when I warned them about the raid, nor during the battle, so ideally they would not want me for questioning. However, the Death Eaters know me, as I gave my name to them, and they might talk. In which case I'll become a witness."

He considered. "I'd like to send you back the portkey bracelet," he said. "If Lepidus is out there, you'd have a place to flee to. Also, I'd like to see you again." She nodded. His suggestion made sense, and if it hadn't she just had to think back a mere hour to her steam-filled shower upstairs to feel immediately convinced.

The clock above the sink showed noon. Eleanor drank the last dregs of her tea and sat down the mug. "We should break this up," she suggested. "Time to go home." She pulled out her wand to clean and tidy her kitchen utensils, then she led the way to the hall.

As she pulled down her jacket and mittens she noticed Lucius' black robes. "You can't fly in these," she said. "If there are aurors out there, you might just as well holler at them. 'Hey, I'm a Death Eater, take me in.'" He considered, then took his wand and disappeared the dark cloak and mask. She looked at him in his thin shirt and shook her head. "Wait," she said and routed around an old wardrobe in the far corner of the hall.

Finally she emerged with a grey and slightly frayed old heavy wool coat. "Try this, it belonged to my Dad. It's not very fashionable, but it'll keep you warm." The blond wizard wrinkled his nose at the strong scent of mothballs and wet dog that escaped from the garment, but his supply of cold and 'flu potion at home was almost used up. The coat was a little short in the sleeves and tight across the chest, but it would work. "Thanks," he said.

Eleanor picked up the brooms that leaned against the wall by the door and handed Lucius the heavy black Malfoy broom. "Invis-," she started, but Lucius laid a hand on her arm that held her wand. "Wait," he urged her. The next moment she was in his arms as he pulled her in, stroked her face and hair and kissed her deeply.

She sank into the caresses of his tongue and lips and wished she would never have to break the connection. Finally he reluctantly released her. His hooded grey eyes regarded her gravely. "Be safe and be careful," he urged her. "I know you haven't told me the half of what you are planning to do, and I don't want to know. But please don't take any unnecessary risks. You're the only free agent in this setup. No one will be looking out for you."

"There you're wrong," she smiled at him, stroking his arm through the thick fabric of his coat. "I do have help. And now I have the promise of a Malfoy to protect me. I have no intention to die at the hands of scum like Lepidus. Be safe yourself, now." She gave his arm a last parting squeeze, picked up her broom, spoke the _invisibilis_ spell and lifted off over the front garden. He stared for a moment at the point where she had last stood and then slowly and stiffly mounted his own broom to fly home.

He knew that the rest of the day's work was cut out for him. After all, he had not labored and spent money to have his contacts get dirt on anyone they could in the Ministry for nothing. Over the years he had maneuvered himself into a position where he could blackmail at least two of the Unspeakables, three, if Soren's wife took objection to her husband sleeping with that 15 year-old Malfoy had purposely put in his inebriated path after a Ministry function last fall. He had a few aurors on his private payroll as well, not to speak of other assorted Ministry employees. He had bided his time, patiently working with threats and enticements, always looking, always listening, always on the alert for any weaknesses.

Now it was high time to call in some favors. Preferably he would get any information suppressed that implicated him with the Death Eaters, before it even left the interrogation rooms. Even better, he could have one of the Unspeakables step in and obliviate any prisoners with respect to one Lucius Malfoy. A few minutes into his flight he was already busy plotting and scheming, ignoring the cold autumn air that cut through his clothes as he made his way back to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

Eleanor actually stopped her broom and hovered over the street for a few minutes, observing the blond wizard in her front yard levitate his broom, turn, and grow translucent as he lifted above the large chestnut tree. By the time he was above the roof of her house she could not see him any more. While she had not lied to him in telling him she needed to go back to school, she had omitted mentioning an errand she was planning to run on the way back. She turned towards the center of London and a little while later joined the crowds of wizards and witches in Diagon Alley.

As she made her way past the stores, listening to the calls of street vendors in the chilly air, she remembered the warm quiet summer afternoon when she had first laid eyes on Lucius Malfoy and shook her head. He was a Death Eater, an arrogant, unscrupulous bastard, a pureblooded dark wizard of the worst provenance, who cared for nothing and nobody save himself and his own advancement and power.

He was an also aristocrat with a sense of honor that prompted him to mutiny, openly defy his leader and draw an unforgivable curse in order to protect her. He had made a truce with her that could easily cost him any favor he had held with Lord Voldemort, should his master ever come back to power and discover how his servant had sabotaged an attempt to restore his body. He was finally the best lover she'd ever had, and even though she had seen him for only a few times now, she had discovered he had the capacity to make her want him and hate him to an extent that truly unsettled her.

Such musings accompanied her to the imposing entrance of _Gringotts Bank_ and she had to forcibly clear her thoughts as she negotiated with a goblin for access to her family's vault. As the bank employee opened the heavy door for her she finally had him convinced to lock her in for exactly two hours, as she was not yet sure what if anything she needed to remove from her holdings.

The goblin gave her a strange look, but eventually closed the door behind him and she heard a series of locks and bolts slide back into place. In the dim light of several torches she turned to the jumbled assortment of trunks, caskets and parcels that was piled on the floor and scattered over the shelves at the back of the vaulted room. She had been here before and had surveyed her belongings in a general way, but now she had come looking for definitive clues about Falco's work.

From her previous visit she already knew that aside from a rather obscene amount of galleons that were contained in two huge chests she was also in the possession of several trunks of rare magical books, a large portion of her eccentric grandmother's wardrobe, which, while rather spectacular, would have even raised collective eyebrows in the wizarding world, and a quite large assortment of alchemistical instruments and mainly black magical items. She had uncovered boxes with poisons and potions, cursebearers, demon sigils, spellbooks filled with strategies and incantations for magical attacks and several rather vicious magical weapons, from aura-eaters and squibificants to hexed wands.

She ignored all of these for the time being, shifted a bale of tanned dragon hide out of the way and opened a large oak chest that contained piles of documents. Settling in she started to sift through the parchment. Old love letters written by her grandparents she could probably ignore, as well as any other documents that dated before 1948, which was the year in which Falco had written the letter from the Budapest auction that spoke of the generation of the homunculus.

When she heard the goblin unlock the door a while later, she had made her selections. She would be able to review the documents later at Hogwarts at her leisure. For now she was sure that she had not left anything behind that might hold a clue to the whereabouts of her grandfather's work. Using her wand she shrunk the papers to a size that would fit into her coat pockets and followed the goblin out of the vault.

The flight back to the school was cold, long and generally uncomfortable, and Eleanor wished she actually owned a racing broom. Perhaps it would be defensible to spend some galleons on her next visit to Diagon Alley and invest in an upgrade. At dusk she finally saw the lights of Hogsmeade shimmer below her and lifted her invisibility spell. A little later she crossed the black expanse of the forbidden forest and finally steered towards the mad jumble of lit towers and turrets of the school. The lights in the great hall showed that dinner was already under way. She sighed and decided that after her performance during lunch on Saturday she would prefer to avoid any questions from her colleagues and head straight for her rooms. Murry would bring her some food and she could get started on the documents.

Eleanor hoped that her return to Hogwarts would be as unmarked as her departure as she swooped up the tall expanse of masonry in the dark until she reached her open window. She ducked as her broom cleared the windowsill and landed back in her study. Isis, her cat greeted her with some accusatory sounds. The rooms were very cold.

Quickly she shut the window and used her wand to light a fire both in her bedroom and her working area. Had she spent a moment longer at the open casement she would have seen a dark figure on a broom detach from the shadows of the forbidden forest and make its way towards the school, following her. The rider kept low on the ground as long as possible and then hid under the cover of the inky shadows of the many roofs and gables.

A little while later Eleanor had finally settled in at her desk. She had expanded the documents to their original size where they now sat in several teetering piles before her. Murry had brought her a dish heaped with helpings from the dinner table and while she absentmindedly chewed on some steak and mushroom pie she began reading. What she had brought back with her certainly proved interesting.

After a few hours she sat back from her workspace and stretched. Isis had finished the remains of her dinner and now lay curled up on her lap, sleeping. The magical hourglass on the shelf by her desk showed it was well past midnight. Before her lay a copy of the rental agreement for the _Four Elements Books and Curios _store, a small map and a letter from a Signore Aurelio, registered _architectus_ of the _Scuola Magica _at Verona. Eleanor rubbed her temples and reread the letter.

Dear Signore Sartorius,

I am pleased to inform you that my apprentice and I have successfully installed the obscuroom at your store. Be assured that we do not stand in breach of the rental agreement that expressly forbids structural alterations to the property, as an obscuroom is defined not as an architectural construct, but as an inhabitant.

The obscuroom will be undetectable to anyone who has not been authorized to find it and can be removed at your convenience. I will leave the appropriate process descriptions in your hands. If it pleases you, I would like to ask you and your wife to join us tomorrow at noon for an inspection and settle the financial aspects of our services if our work is meeting with your approval.

Yours sincerely, Juliano Aurelio, A(rchitectus)M(agicus) R(egistratus)

Picking up the map she shook her head. She had never heard of an obscuroom before but imagined that it had to be some kind of hidden undetectable space. Installing it was obviously a complex magical operation if it required a registered _architectus magicus_ to perform the necessary spells. And her father had had one put into his bookstore. Why? He had already locked most of the unsavory family heirlooms he had taken with him from Cologne into the vault at Gringotts. What did he have to hide that he would not even entrust to the proverbial discretion of the goblin bank?

This was the best trail to the homunculus she had found yet. But her research into the properties of an obscuroom had to wait a few hours. She had a full schedule of classes on Monday and she desperately needed some rest. Gently she picked up Isis and laid her on the nest of pillows in the inglenook. Then she tidied the piles of documents into the drawers under her desk, leaving only the map of the store, the rental agreement and the letter from Signore Aurelio. A few minutes later she had slipped under the silk blankets of her bed and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The wizard who had followed her meanwhile had landed in a narrow courtyard between two tall towers in a rather deserted part of the castle. He had not been in Slytherin for nothing all these years ago. Muffled in dark robes he moved swiftly and silently as he hid his broom and stepped up to a wall at the far end of the open space. From his schooldays he still remembered the incantations that would open a hidden doorway to a steep winding staircase that led right down to the castle dungeons. He cast an invisibility spell and slipped noiselessly into the shadows. The doorway closed behind him revealing nothing but a smooth expanse of masonry. 


	13. Breaking and Entering

**Breaking and Entering**

_"Quicquid servatur, cupimus magis: ipsaque furem cura vocat.- We covet what is guarded; the very care invokes the thief." (Ovid, Amorum III, 4,25)__  
  
_

Monday morning was grey, cold and rainy. However, breakfast in the great hall was noisier than usual. Students shared stories about their exploits over the weekend, while a steady stream of family owls dropped in to deliver mail and parcels with treats and greetings from home.

Eleanor found her place next to Pomona Sprout and wavered between the choices of the day: hot salted porridge, smoked kippers and blood pudding. "Go on," Lana Piotrofski encouraged her from across the table. "Try the blood pudding, it's very good, and you do look a bit pale, dear." Eleanor swallowed. Why couldn't they just serve some scrambled eggs, pancakes and bacon? Blood pudding or kipper should be something you encountered if you were brave enough to eat _Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans_, but it should not be a legitimate choice of breakfast food.

She looked around and found that everyone was eating enthusiastically, with the exception of Severus Snape who surveyed the platters and bowls of food with an expression not unlike her own. He seemed to have resigned himself to drinking tea and munching on some dry toast and looked even more disgusted with life than his usual cheerful self.

Eleanor shook her head and finally speared two smoked kippers. "So who pissed off the house elves?" she asked Pomona to her left. The herbology professor grinned and swallowed. "Well, it's not a continental breakfast, but I promise you, by the time the third lesson in greenhouse five rolls around, I'm always grateful for a good foundation." She cut off a large chunk of blood pudding and waved her fork in Eleanor's direction. "So how did you do over the weekend? I thought you were rather unsettled about the news regarding the bookstore on Saturday."

Eleanor filleted the first kipper ordering her thoughts. The raid and the auror operation would probably appear in the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, which had not arrived yet. However, by noon the owls would have made their deliveries. She decided to stay with the facts, but kept her story as condensed as possible.

"Well, there was a raid on the Oswalds that night. The reporter really shouldn't have put their names in the paper. I got there on time, thanks to your warning, got my father's friends out and managed to alert some aurors, but I don't know what the outcome was, yet. Should be interesting to read the _Daily Prophet_ today." Professor Sprout looked at her wide-eyed. "You were in the middle of a Death Eater raid? Great Merlin!"

Eleanor shook her head and tried to make light of her experience. "I got out as quickly as I could. Nothing like getting hit by an unforgivable to mess up your weekend, you know. I just wanted to keep Mr. and Mrs. Oswald safe." Pomona picked up her tea mug. "You should really talk to Dumbledore about this, you know?"

Eleanor finished the second kipper. "Well, I may have some time this afternoon, but this morning my schedule is too busy. Matter of fact, I'll better get going soon. I still need to set up the classroom for 'Using Public Transport in the Muggle World' for the third years." She drank the rest of her tea and made her exit.

The morning passed quickly and Eleanor was surprised when the bell rang for lunch and she was able to dismiss her last class. Her stomach growled while she followed a group of her Hufflepuff students down the corridors to the great hall. As she approached the high table, hoping for more appetizing food, Minerva McGonagal, who was seated next to Professor Dumbledore, waved to her and she stepped over to the head of Gryffindor house. The professor handed her the front page of the _Daily Prophet_. Dumbledore watched her intently as she unfolded the newspaper.

"Death Eaters Arrested by Aurors after Raid on Muggles in Croydon," read the main headline. Underneath a photo showed a group of three unmasked wizards and witches in black robes, squirming in the grip of uniformed aurors and snarling silently at their captors. "Can I borrow this for a few minutes?" she asked Minerva. The elderly witch released the paper. "Of course, my dear. Albus and I would like to talk with you after lunch, if you have a few minutes."

She suppressed a sigh. After all, the request had not been unexpected. "Thanks," she said, returned to her seat and propped the newspaper against a bowl of mashed potatoes while she read.

"An anonymous tip-off that was received at the Ministry on Saturday afternoon alerted aurors to a raid on a muggle residence later that evening, which they were able to successfully prevent. Three perpetrators were overpowered and placed under arrest, while several other Death Eaters were able to escape. The operation has provided a significant breakthrough in the case of the vandalization of the _Four Elements_ bookstore and the murder of a muggle security guard in London on Friday night.

The muggles threatened by the latest raid were Mr. and Mrs. Oswald, previous owners of the bookstore. Sources at the Ministry of Magic have informed us that the apprehended Death Eaters are being questioned as to the identity and whereabouts of their accomplices and the motive for their criminal activities. The identities of the arrested wizards and witches have been confirmed as Salomon Lestrange, Antares Gremming-Black and Sidonia Merriwether, So far no details of the interrogations have been released, but it seems that there are some unforeseen difficulties in obtaining information. We will report further as new insights into the case become available."

Eleanor stabbed at some green beans and cursed under her breath. George Lepidus was still at large. Then she re-read the article. 'Difficulties in obtaining information…' She thought she recognized Lucius' handwriting in that. She would be surprised if the aurors ended up getting much useful information out of the captives. It would take more than a botched raid to nail a slippery tactician like the head of the Malfoy clan. She wondered what steps he had taken to protect his identity and that of his escaped associates. Whatever he'd done, it had probably been expensive.

Eventually most of the teachers had finished lunch, and she rolled up the newspaper and joined the headmaster and Minerva. Dumbledore quickly wrapped an éclair into a serviette, put it in one of the deep pockets of his robe for later consumption and lead the way to a small reception room not far off from the dining hall. They settled down and Eleanor laid the Daily Prophet on the table between them. "I assume you alerted the aurors?" Dumbledore asked.

She nodded. "Professor Sprout showed me the newspaper article about the bookstore incident that mentioned Mr. Oswald on Saturday during lunch. So I managed to locate the Oswald home and sent a message to the aurors. It seemed like a logical next step that the Death Eaters would go after my father's business partner if they hadn't found the homunculus at the store. I got the Oswalds out and sent them to the next muggle police station. It seems that the aurors got to the place in time."

She stopped herself. She would not talk about what she had witnessed and divulge information that could implicate Lucius. "Did you see the raid?" asked Minerva. Eleanor paused. "Yes, I was present during part of the raid, but I made myself invisible and left shortly after the aurors started to engage the Death Eaters." she said. "All I wanted was to protect my father's friends. I did not want to get in the way of a bunch of dark wizards and some highly trained aurors."

Dumbledore pondered that, and while he didn't challenge her statement, he seemed rather thoughtful. "Did you recognize any of the wizards," he asked. "Everyone was masked," she said, evading him. "I heard the voice of a woman. She called out in warning when the aurors came. And one man was called Lepidus. I would think he's identical to the wizard who was suspected of leading the raid in Cologne."

The headmaster sighed and cast a sidelong glance at Minerva. Then he addressed Eleanor again. "You know, this hasn't been made public yet, but the three prisoners have been obliviated quite thoroughly. I doubt we will get much information from them." She thought quickly. "Do the aurors know how this might have happened?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "There are some theories. One of the escapees could have done it as a last act when they saw that there were prisoners. The three could have obliviated each other, but the aurors examined their wands. There were no records of obliviation spells. As you know, self-obliviation is not possible. The scariest theory would entail that there are Death Eaters inside the Ministry and the corps of aurors. It's not entirely impossible that someone with authorized access to the prisoners obliviated them before they were interrogated last night. There was a delay in the interrogation to begin with, as the Ministry's supplies of veritaserum were depleted. It's not clear why they had not been replaced before. Some paperwork seems to be missing."

Eleanor stared at the wizard. "It seems that a lot of people have inside contacts among the Ministry," she said darkly. Dumbledore's blue eyes pierced her from behind his half-moon spectacles. "Well, you can see, every morsel of additional information would help us at this point." She met his gaze. "I have told you all I can," she said truthfully. "I think if the aurors manage to catch Lepidus, they will find out who is behind the attacks." Then she decided to change the direction of the conversation. "I would like to do some more research into my father's old bookstore, professor. I checked _Gringotts_ yesterday. The homunculus is definitely not in our family vault. The store is the last place that is left, if Falco's creation went to England with my father at all."

The headmaster exchanged a quick glance with Minerva. "I think that would be a reasonable proposal. Do you suggest any particular course of action?" Eleanor hesitated. "I have a few leads, but everything is still quite vague at the moment. I would like to do some more research, and I might have to go to London some time this week. An introduction to Lisaberta Moffett might help, so she'll let me look around the place." Dumbledore nodded and got up. "That can certainly be arranged. I am sure she would be quite happy to assist us. Please let me know of your progress, professor."

Back in her rooms Eleanor took a deep breath and sat down in front of her fireplace. She had had a pretty narrow escape, and she wasn't sure that she had convinced the headmaster that she had revealed everything about the raid on the Oswalds. While she would have loved to get in touch with Lucius, she didn't dare owl him, and as he still had her portkey, apparating was out of the question. Lucius' loss of his barn owl showed clearly that Lepidus was paying close attention. And Dumbledore certainly suspected the head of the Malfoys. She was sure that his contacts at the Ministry would be listening to him, no matter that the captured Death Eaters were now unable to implicate her lover. Probably he was under secret surveillance by aurors as well. Even an apparition might be unwise, portkey or not. For now she was on her own.

She thought for a moment. In the evening she had a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw for detention, but she had time to spend a few hours in the library during the afternoon and do some research on the mysterious obscuroom and the skills of Signore Aurelio. She put some food out for Isis, then picked up her quill, ink pot and some parchment and set out for the school library.

Very soon she found that knowledge about obscurooms was – well, obscure. Some of the standard magical dictionaries did not even mention the term, and it took her quite a while to finally unearth a reference to some 16th century Italian folios that dealt with the phenomenon. She battled with garbled Latin and old-fashioned Italian for a few hours and found that the obscuroom, or _sala oscura_ as the authors called it, had been invented centuries ago by a master builder in Pisa.

The obscuroom was a secret chamber that would sit hidden in the perfectly normal layout of a building, until a wizard or witch spoke just the right incantation or password. Then it would briefly open to permit access and hide again. It was undetectable and did leave no traces. Muggle science fiction books would have probably described it as existing along another dimensional continuum. The texts she had found were florid in their description of the obscuroom's amazing magical properties, but she found virtually no practical advice on how to locate or open one.

When she realized she needed to break for dinner and detention she saw that her research had not yielded much in the way of results. She had some general ideas on how to approach the secret of her father's old bookstore, but was by no means convinced that she could access the hidden room. She would need more time for research. Perhaps she should try another approach, locate information about Signore Aurelio and talk to him.

By the time the weekend had approached, Eleanor felt finally ready to pay a visit to Mrs. Moffett. She found herself waking in bed on Saturday morning with Isis curled up in the crook of her right arm and took a few moments to think back on her exploits during the previous days. Her research on the obscuroom had not progressed much. However, her inquiries regarding her father's contract had been more successful.

Architectus Aurelio had died a few years ago. His assistant, however, had been quite ready to help her during a conversation she had had with him in the fireplace of his office in Verona using the floo network. He did not know the exact passwords that his master had given to Wilhelm Sartorius, as this information was always kept strictly between the _architectus_ and the customer, but he suggested several spells that usually helped in locating an obscuroom, and even a recipe for an incense mixture that she should use.

Eleanor had used her free time during the rest of the week to work with an interested Severus Snape on the rather complex incense, practice the obscuroom spellwork and ask Dumbledore to contact Mrs. Moffett. She had not heard at all from Lucius Malfoy, and had taken his continued silence as a sign that she could not compromise either of them by trying to contact him. The _Daily Prophet_ had not reported on any developments regarding the Death Eater arrest, and the escaped black wizards seemed to lie low for the time being. No other raids had happened.

Finally Eleanor kicked off her blankets, dressed in unobtrusive muggle clothing and made her way to breakfast. Out of politeness she asked Severus Snape, who shared the table with her, if he wanted to accompany her on her mission, but was actually relieved when he turned her down. It seemed that an excursion to muggle London did not register highly on his list of favorite weekend exploits.

Of course he never displayed any preferences to the students, but she suspected that should he ever sit down for a drink and a chat with Lucius Malfoy regarding their opinion about muggles and muggle-borns they would probably get on like a house on fire. She promised to let him know about the results of her search for the obscuroom and the merit of the incense he had helped her mix and took her leave.

At mid-morning the school seemed quite empty. As usual students had either elected to sleep in or had already made their way into Hogsmeade. More unlucky candidates were huddled in the library, catching up on their homework. So she fairly jumped out of her skin, when she suddenly felt herself poked in the back with a vicious-looking Scottish claymore wielded by an evilly grinning Peeves.

"Hey," she called and lifted her wand in defense. The poltergeist blew her a raspberry and started a mock fight with a suit of armor that was displayed further down the corridor, causing a horrid racket in the process. She shook her head and hurried on to escape the din, when she caught a glimpse of Mr. Filch, the janitor. Surprisingly he stared fixedly at an unmarked piece of wall instead of investigating Peeves' latest disturbance.

She walked up to him and told him about her run-in with the ghost, but he barely acknowledged her, promising absentmindedly that he'd take a look, while still staring into empty space. Eleanor shrugged her shoulders. Filch was an odd man at the best of times. His one redeeming characteristic seemed to be his devotion to his cat. She cast one last glance at the shabbily dressed gaunt figure, heard the noises of Peeves' battle fade away and walked on.

She was still musing about the janitor's strange behavior, otherwise she might have noticed a tall black-clad shadow that quickly ducked back into a hidden stairwell to her side that connected the sunlit levels of the castle with the dungeons. The robed figure uttered a soft hiss and stared after her with a curious expression on his pale face.

Back in her rooms she gathered a few belongings into a bag, shrugged into her wool coat and picked up a smooth pebble from her desk that normally served as a paperweight. She lifted her wand and enchanted the stone as a portkey. A few seconds later she found herself behind a few rubbish containers behind the Coal Hole pub in the Strand. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed her apparition, but apart from a few sparrows fighting over a piece of bread, she was alone. She cautiously opened a fire door, entered the back of the pub, sniffed the stale, smoke-laced air and made her way though the small groups of early patrons who had decided to start their weekends with a glass of draught.

The Strand was already very busy. Shoppers crowded the pavement, and buses and taxies jostled for space in the slow traffic. She joined the throngs of people and walked in the direction of St. Paul's cathedral until she finally reached a narrow dusty shop front that was set back from the glitzy chain stores and restaurants. It had the typical aura of a wizarding establishment, easy to overlook and so run-down and dingy as to be completely unappealing to any passing muggles.

The nearly blind front window with faded gold lettering revealed a meager display of battered books, some tarot decks and a few crystals and pendulums. She pulled on a squeaky wood door that might have been painted blue once and heard a soft chime of bells announce her entry. A small round woman garbed in swirling, multicolored velvet appeared out of the dark depths of the store and greeted her.

Eleanor introduced herself to Lisaberta Moffett, who seemed genuinely pleased to see her. She had received the owl with Dumbledore's letter of introduction and was only too happy to show her around after she had locked the door and hung up piece of parchment announcing that the store was closed until noon for repairs. She called into the back and moments later a very pale, skinny young wizard joined them. "My son, Theodore Moffett," she said. "Theo, I'm closing for a little while. You can use magic when you tidy up for now. We should be safe from any muggles walking in."

As Eleanor looked around she could still see some of the traces of the Death Eater raid on the bookstore. It seemed the attackers had used some pretty vicious blasting spells, just for the heck of it and wreaked quite a bit of havoc in the small cramped shop.

Young Moffett pulled out his wand and levitated books from piles on the floor back into some burned and chipped looking shelves. Meanwhile Mrs. Moffett turned back to her visitor. "I heard from the headmaster that you would need to examine the store, because it is likely that your father hid a magical item on the premises. Professor Dumbledore told me that the burglars the other day were looking for the same thing. Can I help at all?"

"Certainly," smiled Eleanor. "If you could show me around the whole store and any other rooms, that would help. Also, if you have ever noticed any inconsistencies in the layout of the place, walls, that don't connect right, spaces that should be larger or smaller, I'd be interested to know." Mrs. Moffett raised an eyebrow. "Spatial inconsistencies, well, I'd never," she murmured and proceeded to show her visitor through the sales area, a chaotic storage room and a small tea kitchen.

The ground floor seemed normal, apart from the raid damage, and the older witch next led the way up a small rickety staircase to the second floor, which contained more shelving space for books, a sitting room with scorch marks on the furniture and an office which still looked as if a small bomb had gone off in the middle of it. Eleanor surveyed the scene of destruction and found she suddenly felt lightheaded and a bit queasy. There was an odd pull at her stomach as she contemplated a vivid image of an irate Lucius Malfoy hurling a curse into a filing cabinet stuffed full of last year's accounting sheets.

Mrs. Moffett interrupted her musings. "Above this is the garret. There are some old trunks in it and my sister has stored half her household there since her divorce last year. It's not very tidy, I'm afraid, and the Death Eaters took quite a swipe at it. Even punched holes in the roof with their curses. I had to put some spells on, to keep the rain out. We'll have some roofers come in next week and fix it up properly."

She turned towards Eleanor, who hesitated. "I think I would like to magically examine the ground floor and this floor first, if you don't mind. If I don't find anything, we can do the attic afterwards. I will need to cast some spells and burn some incense, if that's okay." The shopkeeper nodded. "That's fine, but I'd really like to know what we are looking for."

Eleanor dug in her bag for the pouch of incense she had brought along. "My father had a skilled Italian _architectus magicus_ put an obscuroom, a secret compartment, into this house," she said. "If I find it, I should be able to also retrieve the magical item I am looking for." While she explained she set up a small brass incense burner and lit a coal tablet with her wand. Next she sprinkled a pinch of Severus' concoction on the burner and prayed that the stuff would not smell of sulfur or burned hair or worse. Fortunately the thick swathes of smoke that emerged almost immediately reminded her of fresh-baked gingerbread.

She positioned herself facing the burner, lifted her wand and intoned the spells that Signore Aurelio's apprentice had given to her. Soon the smoke condensed into a thick wisp that reminded her somewhat of a squid's tentacle. It wavered back and forth as if searching for something and lengthened. The tip of it purposefully snaked along the walls and doorways and she realized she had to follow it as it moved further away from the burner. She quickly added some more of the incense and then let the smoke guide her down the stairs, round the shop and back up into every one of the rooms. She thought she saw some curling and quivering when the tentacle poked into the small office, but she could not observe any of the more dramatic effects that the wizard in Verona had described to her.

Finally the glowing coal had consumed the incense mix and the last of the smoke evaporated. Eleanor lowered her wand. "Nothing," she murmured disappointedly. Lisaberta Moffett pulled down a ladder that allowed access to the attic. She watched as Eleanor climbed up with her wand, the burner and a fresh supply of incense and repeated her incantation.

Again the smoke tendril did not indicate any traces of the obscuroom. As a last resort Eleanor used every one of the other spells that she knew about that might reveal hidden doorways, but while she eventually managed to vanish two floorboards that had been enchanted previously for woodworm damage, the secret room stayed hidden. Blushing with embarrassment she gave up, restored the missing floorboards and put her wand away.

"I'm afraid Signore Aurelio's craftsmanship is beyond me," she told Mrs. Moffett. "This is quite disappointing. I am sorry I took so much of your time." The older witch dismissed her excuse. "That's quite all right, my dear. I was quite happy to help, and I hope that they catch the other Death Eaters, too, so I can sue for damages. You know, I am having quite a bit of trouble with my Accidental Magical Mischief Insurance. They said they wouldn't cover the roof repairs at all."

She sighed. "Well, give my regards to Headmaster Dumbledore. If I can do anything else, just let me know. We are open from 9 to 6 except on Mondays, so just come by." Eleanor put a cooling spell on the incense burner, stowed her utensils back in her bag and followed Mrs. Moffett who accompanied her to the store entrance and unlocked the door to let her out. They shook hands and Eleanor found herself back among the crowds on the street.

She was very disappointed with her lack of success, but comforted herself with the fact that even an _architectus _apprentice had not been able to crack the secret of this particular obscuroom. She estimated that the chances of one of the Death Eaters succeeding where Signore Aurelio's assistant had failed were pretty slim. On top of it, no one with the exception of a few teachers and Mrs. Moffett knew about the secret compartment to begin with.

She began to entertain the thought that the homunculus might well remain hidden forever. At that thought some briskness returned to her step and she decided she would find a place to have lunch and then use the rest of the day to visit the Oswalds. After all, it was not inconceivable that either Marvin or Patsy knew something about the obscuroom.

It was past nightfall when she finally reapparated in her rooms at Hogwarts. Her visit in Croydon had been very enjoyable and she wished she had sought out her father's old friends before. She was also relieved to run into two undercover auror guards that the Ministry had installed at the isolated house to keep an eye on the Oswalds.

They challenged her as she approached the property, and after she had identified herself they reassured her that no suspicious activity had taken place after the raiders had been beaten back and arrested. The elderly couple seemed none the worse for their experience and enjoyed telling her stories about their acquaintance with her parents. Unfortunately neither of them had ever heard about any hidden spaces in the old bookstore. It seemed her father had been a much more secretive wizard than she had imagined.

Now back in the warmth of her study Eleanor shrugged off her coat, stowed her incense burner and was just about to set her portkey back on her desk when she froze. She distinctly recalled leaving the documents pertaining to the obscuroom on her blotter, but now they were gone.

Her first instinct let her examine the floor around the desk, assuming that Isis or a freak draft had swiped them off, but they seemed to have vanished. Her heart started racing. No one had access to her rooms that were warded as a matter of school security protocol. Only house-elves could come and go, and the headmaster and heads of the houses could override the spells if necessary. Yet, someone had to have been in her study and removed the map, Signore Aurelio's letter and the rental agreement. There was nothing to be done now, she had to alert Dumbledore.

Taking care to leave everything precisely as she had found it, she locked her rooms behind her and ran down the echoing hallways until she reached the spiral staircase that led up to the headmaster's office. She spoke the password and impatiently tapped her foot as the stairs slowly carried her up until she found herself in the presence of the many portraits of Hogwarts headmasters.

Some of the old wizards and witches were already asleep in her frames and barely blinked at her entrance. Fawkes had his head stuck under his wing and seemed to be twitching his tail-feathers in a dream. The office was otherwise empty and she was almost prepared to back out again, when a narrow door opened and Dumbledore walked in wearing a dark violet housecoat and slippers.

"Eleanor," he said. "It's rather late my dear." She interrupted him. "I know, Albus, and I apologize, but I believe my rooms have been burgled. I had documents about my father's shop. They are gone." She now had the headmaster's full attention. "Have a seat," he invited her. "Tell me exactly what happened."

She felt vexed and impatient at the delay, but she bit her lip and gave him a terse narrative that mentioned the _Gringotts _documents, the obscuroom, her failed attempts at locating the secret compartment and the disappearance of her father's papers." Dumbledore listened attentively. As soon as she was finished he got up with surprising speed and called a house-elf.

"Go and fetch Professor McGonagal, please and tell her to go to Professor Sartorius' chambers. Also go and alert Mr. Filch and ask him to join us." The little magical creature zipped off and Dumbledore led her out of the headmaster's office and walked beside her at a brisk pace as they made their way back to her rooms.

As soon as they arrived, the headmaster pulled out his wand and started to incant spells to reveal and examine the wards on her door. Blue glow marked the lines of magical power that protected access, and after a few minutes Dumbledore shook his head. "No one broke in here. If anyone got in and removed the documents, they were authorized to enter." Eleanor shook her head. "That leaves the house-elves, or a head of house. Why would they want to take the documents?"

Quick steps down the hallway made her look up and she saw Minerva approach, followed shortly after by Argus Filch who carried a small lantern. They all entered her chambers and she pulled up some additional chairs. Dumbledore explained the situation. "That leaves only the people who have legitimate access to the room," he finished. "Meaning myself, you, Minerva, and the other heads of house, the house-elves, and, of course, you, Argus as the janitor."

Suddenly Dumbledore stood up and approached the door again. "Aspecto entratam!" he commanded in a resounding voice and Eleanor gasped as she saw the wards flare up in almost painful brightness. Next she noted a spectral version of herself leave the door. Her double wore the clothes she had put on earlier that morning. After her a faintly transparent Murry entered the door. She remembered that her bed had been made when she had returned from breakfast. And there she was, coming back from the great hall. She had left Hogwarts using her portkey after that.

Suddenly another figure materialized. It was Argus Filch. He walked through the door and back out almost immediately afterwards and she thought she saw something white in his hand. She swept around to the janitor, who looked slack-jawed at his doppelganger.

Dumbledore lowered his wand. "Argus," he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Can you explain yourself?" Filch swallowed, croaked and cleared his throat. "N-no, headmaster," he gritted out. "I – I don't even remember going into the professor's rooms. I can't remember…" Dumbledore turned his full attention on the janitor. "I am sorry, Argus, I need to do this. I promise it won't hurt."

He stretched out his hand towards the man standing before him. "Legilimens," he incanted and closed his eyes. Filch's face lost all expression, but seconds later Dumbledore lowered his arm. "Obliviated," he sighed.

Eleanor nodded, remembering suddenly how she had wondered about the janitor's odd behavior when she had told him about Peeves. "I saw you this morning," she said to Filch. "I was trying to tell you that the poltergeist was up to his usual mischief, actually poked me with a claymore, but you seemed out of it. You were staring off into space and barely acknowledged me. Do you remember that?"

Filch shook his head miserably. "I didn't even know we met today." The headmaster clasped his hands. "Well, we know at least that foul play is involved. There is only one other avenue of investigation that I have. Eleanor, as you are the injured party, you should cast the detection spell. It is normally more successful that way. I believe someone used an _imperius_ on Mr. Filch. Your observation seems consistent with that."

She got up and unsheathed her wand. As she positioned herself opposite Filch, Dumbledore placed a calming hand on the man's shoulder. "Detego imperium!" she called, and saw a pale green glow settle around the janitor. It flowed outwards and revealed a tall, gaunt translucent figure in Death Eater robes.

The image of the wizard showed that while he hadn't been masked he had pulled the hood of his cloak over his face. It was impossible to say who he was. She found herself tremble as the manifestation slowly faded. 'Please don't let it be Lucius,' she pleaded in her thoughts. 'Oh, Hecate, please!' Then, for a brief moment the dark wizard faced her. She gave a small squeak of surprised dismay, but then lowered her wand. It was not him, not Lucius. She suddenly felt quite weak in her knees and ashamed as she realized that she still had a hard time trusting her lover. She had half expected to look into the pale, proud face of the head of the Malfoys.

Minerva broke her train of thoughts as she sat forwards and peered at the dissolving form of the Death Eater. "I recognize the man," she said. "The manifestation was quite clear. That is George Lepidus." The headmaster let go of Filch's shoulder. "Are you sure?" he asked. The head of Gryffindor stood up, resolve in her face. "Without a doubt. We need to move."

Two hours later Eleanor felt thoroughly exhausted as she leaned in a corner of her crowded study. Aurors had been called in and she had been asked to perform the _imperius _detection twice more for witnesses. At the end of it Filch was a sobbing wreck apologizing to anyone who would listen, and stating again and again how sorry he was. Eventually Dumbledore took him aside and dismissed him. Aurors had dispersed throughout the castle and the grounds in order to search for Lepidus, but had come up empty. A warrant for his arrest was released promptly.

An Unspeakable who was dripping with arrogance and suspicion had questioned her for about an hour and she had had a hard time to keep her wits together and her story straight. When he finally released her, she took a deep breath and busied herself with directing the house elves to provide tea and biscuits for the Ministry officials who seemed to regard her study their new headquarters for now. At least she had been successful in her narrative. Without open lies and just by artistry of omission the name of Lucius Malfoy, respected member of the board of governors of Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizardry, member of the Committee for the Disposal of Magical Creatures and independent consultant to the Ministry of Magic, hadn't even been mentioned once.

Numbly she listened to aurors tramping through her chambers, flooing in and out of the fire and covering the floor with soot, floo powder and mud from the school grounds. Albus Dumbledore seemed unperturbed as he lounged in her easy chair by the fire and consulted with the aurors and the Unspeakable. She walked over to her desk, where a Ministry scribe had piled parchments and protocols and suddenly remembered the missing documents. Triple Goddess!

"Hey!" she called at the top of her lungs. The babble of voices was cut off. Someone flopped out of the fireplace with a thud and a smoke-induced cough. Everyone was looking at her, including the Unspeakable. "Lepidus has the obscuroom information. Is anyone actually checking up on the _Four Elements_ bookstore?" She heard a ragged-looking auror swear, and then the room exploded.

The Unspeakable hollered orders and she squeezed her way through to him. "I'm coming with you," she declared. "The homunculus belongs to my family. I will be able to detect its whereabouts." She knew she might well be bluffing, but there was no way she would give up control of the situation. The Ministry official looked at her and compressed his lips. "Fine," he declared. "Try to stay out of our way. Here," he called over one of the aurors. "Take care of Professor Sartorius. She'll be going with you."

In the next second someone had pushed a fistful of floo powder into her hand and she bent into her fireplace staring at the swirling green robes of a disappearing auror. She barely had time to pronounce her destination when she already came tumbling out of the small fire in the sitting room at the _Four Elements_ kicking an auror who had arrived just before her in the ribs and having a small female auror land right on top of her seconds later, just as she had started to apologize.

Eventually they sorted out the tangled heap of legs, wands and robes and cautiously advanced to join a small group of Ministry employees who were already busy securing the premises. It was dark aside from the deep-sea glow of lit wand tips. Everyone talked in rushed whispers, but she felt that the aurors seemed reasonably organized and sure of their work. She trailed behind following the short witch who had arrived right behind her out into the second floor corridor only to find her attention arrested by a patch of deeper black next to the entrance to the small office.

She pulled out her own wand. "Lumos," she called quietly and took a surprised gasp when she saw the blackness revealed as a small doorway right next to the office. She was sure that it had not been there earlier that day, but she also remembered how the incense had curled and rippled briefly when the tip of the smoke tendril had explored the area. "Hey," she hissed at the auror before her. "I found something." The witch turned and joined her. "This has to be the obscuroom. I know it wasn't here this morning."

Carefully they peered into the newly revealed space and as Eleanor moved her wand forward she saw that the walls of the chamber seemed oddly mottled. "Lumos flammipotens," she intoned and her wand flared up.

"He's killed it," she exclaimed. "What?" asked the auror. Eleanor turned to her and ordered her thoughts. "Well, few people know much about obscurooms, but from what I have found out they are really a kind of magical being, not fully conscious, but alive somehow. Normally they hide again when someone has entered or exited them, but look at this here, it's just hanging open. It's like the walls have been burned and melted. It looks organic on the inside, and it sure smells like scorched flesh."

"Wait here," said the witch and she heard her clatter down the stars. Eleanor peered into the room, but the stench of charred matter was overpowering enough to make her gag and withdraw. In any case the obscuroom was empty. If the homunculus had been hidden here, it was now in the possession of the chief Death Eater. She asked herself how the dark wizard had been able to locate and open the secret compartment so quickly and felt even more upset with herself at having failed.

Her thoughts were cut short when suddenly the electrical lights in the store flared up and the auror in charge walked up to her. "Professor? Lepidus is gone. What have we here?" Hurriedly she explained. The auror asked someone to summon the Unspeakable from Hogwarts and looked into the obscuroom, only to cough and pull back as quickly as she had. "Hm," he mused. "Cruel and unorthodox, but effective. That would explain the burned mice and spiders downstairs." Eleanor stared at him. "What did he do?" she asked.

The auror shrugged. "Used a fire spell, if I'm not mistaken, something from the family of the _incendiatus_ curses. I would think he made sure it only consumed living matter. We found burned vermin downstairs, but no other traces of fire. The obcuroom simply opened when it had burned to death." "Gods," she sighed. "I was here earlier today. I tried everything. The damn thing wouldn't twitch."

They were interrupted by the Unspeakable who strutted in and surveyed the situation. He thanked and dismissed the aurors who now moved from securing the crime scene to collecting evidence and then cornered her and reprimanded her for not having called on him when she had first known about the obscuroom. She decided to play along and instead of defending herself apologized profusely until he finally let her go.

When she finally returned to her room via the floo network she found that the last of the aurors were packing up. Minerva and Albus still sat by the fire place enjoying a cup of tea and made no show of leaving, so she eventually called Murry, asked him to tidy up, grabbed a mug of tea and joined them. She gave them a brief summary of what she'd seen.

The headmaster shook his head. "I'm quite disturbed to hear that the Death Eaters now have the homunculus," he said. Professor McGonagal peered over her glasses. "The homunculus is also organic. Would it not have burned as well?" she asked. Eleanor lowered her mug of tea. "I wish, but my studies indicate that the vial of a stage one homunculus is practically impervious to anything. I'm sorry."

Finally the headmaster stretched and got up. "Well, there's nothing for it now. Tonight we can't do anything more but try and get at least a bit of sleep. Perhaps the morning is wiser than the evening." He and Minerva took their leave and she was finally alone in her study. Murry peered in once more and removed the last of the teacups, and then she sank back on her bed.


	14. Bait

**Bait **

_"He who does not bait his hook catches nothing." (Proverb)_

Lucius Malfoy believed in swift retribution. If he found that rewards were merited for services received, payment tended to be quick and generous. If punishment was called for, it was just as speedily administered and he always ensured that it was sufficiently painful and horrific to serve as an example to others. The philosophy had served him well over the years and had kept his contacts and agents in line. The Malfoys tended to meticulously follow traditions that ensured success. Therefore it was supremely annoying to find that for the time being his hands were tied.

It was late on a cool and rainy Friday afternoon. He had just thrown himself into an easy chair in front of the fireplace of his study after having spent a most aggravating and boring day at the Ministry. During the morning he had attended one of the infrequent, but lengthy meetings of the Committee for the Disposal of Magical Creatures. He had made a point of making constructive contributions and praising the feeble-minded suggestions of his colleagues. He had been jovial and charming and polite until his jaws hurt from biting back the scathing witticisms that crowded his tongue. By Azrael, what a bunch of stupid, self-important morons! It was in moments like these that he fervently wished for the return of the Dark Lord. How he would like to be able to _crucio_ some of them with impunity until their fat hides split!

At least he had an opportunity over lunch to briefly visit one of his contacts. The assistant to the Keeper of Potions at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had had the sense and amazing initiative to get rid of the Ministry's remaining stock of veritaserum as soon as news from the Death Eater arrest had reached the office.

Her quick thinking had delayed the interrogations long enough for him to get word to one of the Unspeakables to obliviate the three prisoners. Still, the meeting had caused him its own share of annoyance. The silly witch couldn't get past the fact that the path to her recruitment had once led through his bed. She still seemed to harbor some kind of stupid and sentimental romantic attachment to him, despite the fact that she was now married and had subjected her body to the ravages of three children. Even if he had bathed in vorax and she was the last witch on earth, he would not touch her with a twenty-five inch thornwood wand. Hell, he'd rather bed his wife!

In the spirit of retribution he had promised the woman a decent reward for her troubles. Contacting the Unspeakable had been out of the question, as Fudge had cornered him right then and there and taken him to lunch. The stupid git had even had the gall to make some slimy comments about the heartbreaking sigh with which the Ministry employee had taken her leave and batted her eyelashes at him. Of course he had invited Fudge to the best place in London, and of course he had paid the bill. It had been a damn waste of decent food and good money!

During the afternoon he had worked on some Hogwarts business concerning a convoluted trust fund for the school that had been set up by a deceased Slytheryn alumnus, still trying to get in touch with the Unspeakable, but had been foiled again by none other than Arthur Weasley.

That man alone was enough to get his blood boiling: red unruly hair, brown dachshund eyes with about as much intelligence as one of those little bow-legged rats muggles tended to drag around on leashes and matching puppy-enthusiasm for anything involving muggles. And the man was a pureblood wizard, him and his obnoxious wife whose hideous dress sense was only equaled by her uncanny ability to pop out a child per year, occasionally even two at a time. If they continued at that rate the next generation of pureblood wizards would all have to be married to Weasleys. He briefly pictured his son Draco with a freckled, puppy-eyed wife and heir and shuddered.

In any case Weasley had actually been enough of an imbecile to suggest that he, Lucius Malfoy, might be interested in signing a petition to submit a new legal addendum to protect muggles from accidental magical interference. And while he had wished he could grab the little man by his scruffy moth-eaten collar and tell him that he and his Death Eater friends liked to torture muggles for their own personal amusement and that Weasley could insert his accidental magical interference into a choice part of his anatomy, he had remained calm and relatively polite.

Actually he was quite pleased with his formidable powers of self-restraint. He had listened to the stupid, underpaid idiot for a whole fifteen minutes without hexing or otherwise cursing him. Eventually he had merely suggested that someone of Weasley's pay and position should have his head examined for daring to interrupt the important work of a Ministry consultant by sauntering into their office and subjecting them to the drivel he had just listened to.

He thought that had been a fair and equitable response, but the stupid muggle-loving cockroach had become really angry at that point and had started to make insulting and completely unfound allegations about the origins of the Malfoy bloodline.

Lucius Malfoy still was not quite sure how it had happened, but two minutes later they were standing facing each other across his desk, wands at the ready, and for some reason a fire alarm was blaring. He had blinked the red haze out of his eyes and realized that somehow they had managed to start a small conflagration in one of the filing cabinets. Of course the fire squad had moved in next, evacuated everyone from the floor and proceeded to put out a tiny paper fire that he could have fixed in a minute flat. The whole department had milled around by the fountain in the entrance hall for half an hour without any discernable progress and he had finally lost patience and had apparated back at home. Waste of a day.

The blond wizard clapped his hands and ordered one of his house elves to remove his boots and bring his slippers. He threw off his outer robes and loosened the velvet band that tied his hair back, then had the elf fetch him a glass of scotch. He settled back in front of the fire, took a sip of his drink and stared into the flames morosely. Soon it would be time for dinner.

Draco would go on about some food item he couldn't possibly eat, because it was so revolting. He would finally lose his patience and clip the little whiny brat around the head. Narcissa would promptly burst into tears, then look miffed at something or other for the rest of the meal. The nanny would try to appear outraged yet not insubordinate enough get herself fired. The tutor would stare at his plate and pretend he was sinking into the floor. Lucius smirked evilly at the thought, he took some sadistic pride in finding new ways to make the young wizard squirm. Perhaps everyone else's misery would finally cheer him up. Fortunately no one had any idea how close he himself had come to fucking up the family fortunes once and for all this time.

So far his luck had held. All three prisoners had been turned into complete and utter vegetables, at least as far as any Death Eater activities were concerned. Old Hamilton had done a superb job. And it seemed that Eleanor had also upheld her side of the bargain, had respected the truce and had told no one about his involvement either. Still, he was skilled enough to know that he was being watched. There were at least four transfigured aurors skulking around on the property. Any apparitions or floo activities would most certainly also be monitored. He was certain that Albus Dumbledore's contacts at the Ministry were responsible for that inconvenience. The headmaster was a shrewd old fool and had never trusted him.

Of course that meant he had to be on his best behavior. Go to the Ministry in the morning and do his job like a fine upstanding citizen. No owls with incriminating messages, no excursions to _Gringotts _to pay off his contacts, no invitations for a certain Hogwarts teacher.

He sighed. She was a damn stubborn witch. If only she hadn't flown off the handle like that and had sent him back the portkey. It was Friday, once again. Only two weeks ago he had sat by another fire in the library looking forward to a very different evening. But tonight would be more in keeping with the long and dreary Friday night last week when they had met Lepidus and turned that dingy little rat hole of a bookstore in London inside out.

Lucius swallowed down the rest of his scotch and ordered a refill from his house elf. He decided that he now had quite an array of fond memories of his latest conquest and that perhaps he would lift his spirits by indulging in some reminiscences. While he was glad that Eleanor had begun to see things his way last Sunday morning, he had also been surprised at how much he had revealed of himself while they had talked.

No one but the Death Eaters present knew of the Lenting raid, and he had certainly never spoken to anyone about the oaths and family traditions that bound him to the service of the Dark Lord. Even the Death Eaters did not discuss that amongst themselves. Well, he had been rather disturbingly glad at having her back, at having her forgive him and trust him again. The way she had shown him in the end had been rather pleasant as well.

Then again, her behavior was still strange to him. No one had ever known this much about him and had yet decided to help him for no obvious reasons. He wasn't sure if an agreement of truce meant the other person was on one's side, but it sure felt like that to him. He wasn't used to it. Death Eaters were each on their own side, or terrorized enough to cooperate. Everyone else was on the side of the Ministry and of mudbloods.

He took another sip of his drink. Whoever had done something for him had always done it for their own ends. That was the way it had been since he could remember. So what was her reason?

Money could be ruled out. She was rich enough. Then again, while association with the Malfoys generally brought prestige, a Sartorius wouldn't need that. On the contrary: if she ever wanted to marry a pureblood wizard to continue her family, rumors of a torrid affair with him would rather harm her prospects. Power seemed to be a possibility, but why on earth did she chose to teach muggle studies and content herself with being another overworked teenager-tormented rag under Dumbledore's feet like that idiot Severus when she wanted power?

He finished his second scotch and decided to go with what he knew about her for certain. She was the best lay he'd had in years. Lucius realized soon that this train of thought was definitely more promising than other speculations about her motivation.

Gauging his physical reactions to the latest turn his musings had taken, the blond wizard decided to desist from tormenting himself and his family for once and sent an elf to excuse him from the dinner table for the night. He next had the creature draw him a bath, made his way from the study to his bedroom, disrobed and soon stretched contentedly in the hot scented water of his sunken marble tub.

He felt rather uncharacteristically mellow after the experience as he lounged back in his study, now wrapped in a long silk dressing gown and nursing a third glass of scotch. He lazily kicked a small piece of wood back into the grate with his slipper and inhaled the sensuous scent of some frankincense he had one of the elves burn to remind him of her, when suddenly an idea struck him. He considered for a while and then called for Dobby.

Promptly the house elf appeared still holding a small wooden stirring spoon that now dripped a splotch of custard on the floor. Lucius shook his head and Dobby, realizing what he had done cringed and blanched. The blond wizard pointed lazily to the waxed wood before his feet. "Lick that up, Dobby," he commanded. "Yes, master," gasped the elf and prostrated himself.

"How does master wish for Dobby to punish himself?" Lucius considered, but decided that he was still floating on too much of a post-orgasmic whisky cloud to be effectively vicious. "Not now Dobby," he decided and suggested quite helpfully. "But you may want to lick the spoon as well, in order to keep it from happening again." The wooden spoon promptly disappeared in the elf's mouth. When it was somewhat clean, Dobby tucked it into his filthy pillowcase, and Lucius Malfoy reminded himself never to speculate on what happened to other kitchen utensils that were used in preparing his meals.

"Master commands?" squeaked the elf. "Oh yes," drawled the wizard. "I have a mission for you. Outside the mansion are four aurors in disguise. They are watching and intercepting any owls that fly in and out of the premises. I need to send a parcel, and you will need to get it past the guards. Do you think you can do that without being detected?"

The house elf nodded eagerly, his green eyes huge. "Oh yes, master, Dobby can sneak and slip by and become invisible. No one will see Dobby." "Good," decided the wizard. "Get me the small velvet box with the silver snake clasp that sits on my nightstand, and take four sickles out of my purse on the side table, then come back."

When Dobby had reappeared Lucius was sitting by his desk writing a brief note to Eleanor Sartorius letting her know that while he wanted her to have the portkey bracelet, she should only use it in an extreme situation as he was being under Ministry observation and any comings and goings would be noted. He would write again when the coast was clear. He scratched his temple with his quill for a moment in deliberation, then added that he missed her. Next he doused the lights and walked over to the window, half hidden behind the curtains.

The room was now dark aside from the fireplace and it was easy to make out the shapes of hedges and trees in the garden. He instructed the elf to climb up on the sill and carefully peer out. "See that small boxwood hedge, just by the side of the entrance to the rose garden, that's one of them. Upsets the whole garden architecture, the stupid idiot and thinks I won't notice. You need to get off the grounds, walk to Gillington and have the post office there dispatch an owl to Professor Eleanor Sartorius at Hogwarts when they open tomorrow. No sender.

If they catch you, you will swallow the letter and say that you stole the box and the money to buy whatever you lot like to eat in Gillington. If you botch it, I'll skin you alive myself and stuff and nail your head to the mantelpiece in the tradition my wife's wonderful family." The house elf squeaked in horror and slipped off the window ledge.

Lucius gave a dark chuckle as he saw his servant scurry out of his presence and returned to the fireplace, refilling his glass on the way back and picking up Eleanor's translation of Falco Sartorius' treatise on the dark arts in modern times. He liked the old codger's weird sense of humor in turning scores of muggle inventions against their creators. It made for amusing reading.

* * *

The weekend came and went in relative peace. Lucius Malfoy even diverted himself with a long walk on Sunday when the rain finally stopped. He sauntered past the transfigured aurors, giving the small boxwood hedge a vicious swipe with his cane and walked off into the direction of Gillington, from where Dobby had returned early on Saturday morning with reports of a successfully accomplished mission. On the way he indulged himself and scared the living daylights out of a pair of muggle teenagers that he found making out behind a low stonewall next to the main road.

In Gillington he paid a brief visit to the wizarding pub and drank a good pint of local stout, then wound his way back to find the muggle girl still in a dead faint behind the stone wall. Her paramour had obviously taken off. Well, that should teach her for picking her boys. He took a long searching look at his prey, but found her rather unappealing. Her pale and freckled features reminded him too much of a Weasley. He simply flicked his wand in an obliviation spell, and as an afterthought added a warming spell. It would not do to have muggle girls die of hypothermia three fields out from his property when the place was swarming with aurors.

* * *

The following week developed much like the one before. The aurors did not ease up on their unceasing vigilance, there was no word from Hogwarts, and none of the other Death Eaters, including Lepidus, so much as twitched. The only interesting development had been an article in the Daily Prophet on Monday about an auror operation at the _Four Elements_ bookstore. The report had been rather vague, but Malfoy had needed very little persuasion to get the full story back at the Ministry. It seemed Lepidus had been successful. Somewhere there was now a young homunculus growing on a steady diet of blood developing into a new vessel for the Dark Lord.

To his surprise Lucius Malfoy found himself strangely conflicted about this latest event. Of course, they had fought and schemed for years now to restore the Dark Lord to his former glory, but Lucius was also aware that many of the liberties the Death Eaters had enjoyed during the interregnum would be severely curtailed once Voldemort took back command. He was not sure if he relished the prospect as much as he thought he would.

Instead of memories of the glory days of terror among mudbloods and Ministry officials he now recalled moments of his own abject fear, prostrate in front of the tall figure of his master, unsure if an unforgivable would hit him next in retribution for some minor transgression. Occasionally between waking and sleeping he found himself wishing that all of this would simply go away, and things remain as they were. The treason implied in those thoughts usually put him in a cold sweat and made him toss and turn for hours.

Worst of all, Lepidus would be the one responsible for the revival of the Dark Lord. Voldemort would reward him for that. And Lepidus hated him with a vengeance and would put forth all his leverage to have him eliminated, preferably in a most painful and undignified manner. He should have kept his place with regards to Eleanor. But while he tried to brand himself as a fool for his weakness where she was concerned, he failed to feel sorry for what he'd done. It took forty days to grow a homunculus. The aurors would eventually tire of watching him, and then there would still be time to influence the situation in his favor. He had maneuvered himself out of tighter spots before.

By the weekend, however, Lucius was getting frantic. Even the order to his house-elves to clip the boxwood hedges in the garden did do little to improve the mood. At least the damn hedge that had sprung up so suddenly out of place was gone by Saturday evening. It seemed the transfigured auror had finally taken enough abuse.

Lucius paced his study during the night and throughout most of Sunday. The homunculus was now already a week old, and the blond wizard was seriously contemplating a breakout. He had to get away and track down his rival, the risks of being caught by aurors be damned. Perhaps he should pretend he had wanted to help law enforcement by apprehending the dark wizard himself. After all, it was known that his father had associated with him. It was entirely believable that now his reformed son wanted to do the right thing and bring the man to justice. He might come out of it a hero with an order of Merlin for civil bravery…

He started working on that plan when finally and surprisingly, on Tuesday morning he found himself free. The spells he had invariably used every time he got up to check for intruders came up without results. The aurors had left him alone and Lucius Malfoy erupted into a flurry of activities. The post office in Gillington dispatched a small army of owls, among them an invitation for Eleanor for Friday. And finally at noon Lucius took a _Gringotts_ portkey out of his purse and prepared to apparate at the bank. It was time to pay back his debts.

The goblin in charge of leading him to his vault was deferential and polite as was appropriate for one of the bank's best customers, and Lucius had soon withdrawn the money he needed for both the Unspeakable and the witch at the Ministry. He thanked the guard and made his way out of the bank.

Diagon Alley seemed quiet on this late October day with a light mist curling up the old gnarled brick fronts of the magical buildings. Malfoy's boots and cane echoed along the street as he hurried towards the entrance to Knockturn Alley. He needed ingredients for a black magical location spell for Lepidus. After a furtive glace to either side, he pulled his billowing black cloak closely around him and descended the steep crooked stone steps that led to the lower levels of stores.

Even the dank and dark narrow alley appeared unusually deserted. The fog here was even thicker and held an unpleasant and clammy smell of decay. Lucius halted for a moment to find his bearings. Just then a drunk-looking young witch in more than revealing red robes approached him out of the shadows, moving into him suggestively and having the nerve to grasp the lapel of his coat with her emaciated fingers while she propositioned him in a slurred husky voice. He hissed at her and lifted his cane to push her off. Even with gloved hands he would not touch such filth.

As his attention was fixed he suddenly felt a strong surge of energy behind him that made every hair on the back of his neck stand up. The threat of imminent attack! Magical instincts taking over he whipped around automatically sliding his wand from his cane and slashing the prostitute across the cheek with the silver-tipped end of the long ebony stick as he moved. She went down behind him with a howling shriek while he found himself face to face with George Lepidus.

The man had a mad light of absolutely malicious glee in his black eyes. Before Lucius could position his wand for defense, a shouted "Expelliarmus!" had disarmed him and hurled him backwards with such force that he skipped off the pavement and his body slammed into the stone wall of a store behind him.

He felt his head crack against the unyielding masonry as his limbs tangled in his robes and his wand went flying from his grip. Through a haze of pain he saw his attacker approach, wand at the ready. Lucius Malfoy struggled to keep conscious, to get up, to retrieve his wand, to defend himself, but heard a cruel and clipped voice intone a stupefaction spell and knew no more.


	15. The Dungeon

**The Dungeon**

_"The best blood will at some time get into a fool or a mosquito." (__Austin O'Malley)_

Eleanor raked her fingers through her hair as she tried to compose the letter she had to write to one of her student's parents, a Mr. Weasly, who apparently worked at the Ministry in the Department of Muggle Affairs. It seemed he had brought home with him and then hexed some muggle artifacts, which was fine with her, as long as his twin sons George and Frank didn't take them to school with them and used them on their fellow students in her classes.

Agreed, the toaster that tried to snap people's hands had been amusing for a while, until the damn thing tried to actually toast the fingers of its unsuspecting victims, even without being plugged in! Now she had two of her class staying overnight with Mrs. Pomfrey for second and third degree burns.

It was hard to concentrate, because her mind kept wandering back to Lucius Malfoy's two letters she had received during the weekend of the obscuroom incident and then last Tuesday. The first letter had included her portkey bracelet and the message inside had struck her as terse and stressed. The second letter had been more in keeping with his usual epistolary style. Both however had been sent through the WOM with a Gillington postmark. It seemed discretion was still the order of the day.

Finally she read through her composition, hoping it was sufficiently grave and then called for Murry, her assigned house-elf to deliver it to the owlery. With the elf gone she was finally free to attack her wardrobe and get ready for a visit to Malfoy Manor. She felt a bit severe after writing the letter of complaint to the Weaslys and decided on a tall, black, button-up silk dress with a tight bodice and slim skirt that reminded her a bit of a 19th century lady's riding dress. Next she slipped on her portkey bracelet and stood back from her desk. "Abraxas," she intoned and found herself almost immediately in Lucius' bedroom.

She looked around with a wry smile. It seemed her lover had redirected the portkey before sending it back to her. He must have thought that preliminaries like meeting in the library just were not required any more, and that one could proceed directly to business. She shook her head in amusement. Next, of course, she noticed, that he was actually not there.

The room was empty, and really looked somewhat disheveled, compared to the last time she'd seen it. Aside from a dim oil lamp in a corner, the room was unlit, the incense burners were empty, and on the bed lay a heap of clothes, books and documents. She also noticed a splash of color on his nightstand. A delicate cut crystal vial held a single flame-colored tiger lily. Smiling, she tiptoed over to the bathroom and gave a quick rap on the door. No answer. When she peered in, she found it dark and also empty.

Another door at the foot of the bed led to a room she had not been in before. She again gave a knock to announce herself and then stepped into the chamber beyond. The room was better lit and as she took in her surroundings, she saw sudden movement: a house elf who had sat cross-legged on the heavy desk in the center of the room apparently polishing a silver candlestick, jumped off with an alarmed squeak and now cowered before her.

She thought she remembered the long nose, dirty pillowcase and sad, bugging eyes from her last visit. That surely was the house elf Lucius had given her cloak to the first time she had been at the house. "Dobby?" she asked. The little elf before her nodded and shrunk even more. "Please don't tell master, Dobby sat on his desk!" he pleaded with her in a quavering voice. She raised her hands, palms out. "'Course not, I promise. Where is he anyway?" The house elf looked up at her. "Dobby does not know, Eleanor Sartorius. Master left for London four days ago, and he has not been back since."

She lifted her eyebrows. "Do you know what he wanted to do?" she asked. "Dobby does not know, but mistress says he is down there whoring when she is all overwhelmed with organizing the big charity ball for _St. Mungo's_ Hospital. She is very upset and says he does this every year, leaving all the work to her, and that it is most inconsiderate of him." Next Dobby looked horrorstruck at the silver candlestick he was still holding. "Oh, no, Dobby spoke ill of master." With that he proceeded to hit himself over the head with it, until Eleanor reached down and grabbed it.

"Hey, no time for that, Dobby. If you want to hit anyone, you should beat your mistress. After all she's the one who said it," The house elf shot her a surprised and shocked look but at least stopped punishing himself. "So obviously Narcissa is angry at him and has not thought of contacting the Ministry, filing a lost person's claim," she stated. "Oh no, not the Ministry!" exclaimed Dobby.

Eleanor thought for a moment. She was pretty sure that Narcissa Malfoy's general assessment of her husband's activities and his motivation to stay away from the organization of a social event was pretty shrewd, but she doubted that she was right on this count. There was too much going on with the race for the homunculus and Lucius' feud with George Lepidus for him to just take off and disappear for a week indulging in some debauchery. In fact, it was more likely that Lucius would have returned for their meeting, if he had been capable of it. The whole situation stank of foul play. Quickly she had made up her mind.

"Dobby, I think your mistress is wrong. I think your master is in trouble, serious trouble!" For a moment the house elf's eyes seemed to light up with an expression akin to hope, then he lifted the candlestick once more. Quickly Eleanor blocked another hit. "It's okay, Dobby. I'm sure it's not easy serving him, but that's what you must do. So will you help me save him?"

He nodded, ears drooping. "What can Dobby do?" he asked. "Well," she suggested. "If we had a hint, some idea where he was planning to go, who he was going to see…" The house elf looked down and thought for a while, then suddenly he fastened his large greenish eyes on her. "Does Eleanor Sartorius know how to skry?" he asked. She looked at him, understanding dawning on her. "Yes," she answered excitedly. "I do!" Dobby jumped up. "Master has a skrying bowl, and we have some of master's hair. Eleanor Sartorius can see where he is."

Eleanor rubbed her hands. "Let's get started. Help me, please, Dobby." The elf nodded and gave a shrill whistle. Soon another house elf appeared. They briefly conferred and then both scrambled from the room.

She took a moment to look around and found that she stood in a vaulted study dominated by a heavy old

oak desk and a huge cupboard that would have easily held a small dinner party. Three large gothic windows looked out into the darkness of night. The center of the wood floor was covered by a large red, black and grey carpet depicting geomantic figures.

She walked along the walls and inspected bookshelves filled with documents and magical treatises. Woodprints hang framed between them, and to her horror she discovered that they were pages cut from the _Malleus Maleficiarum_, the infamous _Witches' Hammer_ depicting scenes of torture and execution of wizards and witches in grim and sadistic detail. She hugged herself. Whoever had decorated this room had had an abiding and deep-seated hatred of muggles and liked to remind himself of it. The _Malleus_ had been one of the most hateful documents ever produced by muggles and had brought pain and horror beyond count to the wizarding world and to many innocent muggles as well.

As she was still immersed in her observations, the house elves returned. Dobby balanced a heavy water-filled brass basin, and the other house elf carried Lucius Malfoy's hairbrush, festooned with strands of his pale blond hair. She looked at them. "Great work! Please set everything down on the desk. I hope I won't be long."

The elves complied. Then Dobby looked up at her. "Does Eleanor Sartorius require anything else?" he asked. She shook her head. "No, Dobby, but I'd like you to stay. If I can call up a location, perhaps you can help me find out where it is. Does anyone come to this room? Draco perhaps, or Narcissa?" "Oh no, master's rooms are forbidden to anyone else, just as he never goes to mistress's rooms."

She felt reassured that she would not have to put wards on the door and sat down at his desk before the skrying bowl. She picked a hair out of the brush and floated it on the water. Then she unsheathed her wand and performed the gestures and incantations required to skrying. Moments later a silvery mist formed on the water and as it cleared she found herself looking out of Lucius Malfoy's eyes.

It seemed Narcissa had been dead wrong. If there had been any debauchery going on, it was long over, as Lucius seemed to simply be looking up at a high vaulted brick ceiling. His gaze was unsteady, occasionally deteriorating into blurred double vision. 'Legless and half passed out on some floor?' she speculated, then wrenched her gaze away and assumed a position where she could look down on him. As she immersed herself in the scene to the exclusion of everything else and became her own invisible persona she grew aware of her other senses. A very unpleasant smell of decay and putrefaction filled the cold, clammy room. And then she saw him.

Lucius was stretched out on a rough stone floor. Someone had bound his hands and feet with thick hemp ropes and forced a gag into his mouth that was tied in place with a strip of his black shirt. He was fully dressed, his cloak spread out underneath him, but the right sleeves of his shirt and coat had been ripped off and his exposed arm was heavily wrapped in white bandages.

On the black velvet of his coat lay several metal instruments, including a blood-letting knife, and the white cotton wrappings were saturated with blood at the bend of his elbow. She looked into his face and saw that his skin was almost as pale as the aura of blond hair that surrounded it. His ice-grey eyes seemed dimmed and clouded and she thought that he was fighting to hold them open as his heavy, long-lashed lids kept slipping down for longer and longer times. Lucius was slowly dying. She was sure of it, as she was sure of why he was dying.

As she shifted her position yet again she saw next to him a wooden box filled with dirt, and on it the naked body of a child of about six years, even though it seemed quite small for its age. The child had flaming red hair, just like hers, just like her grandfather's, she realized with a start. However, as she peered into the face she almost cried out with horror.

The child's features were completely blank. She felt with a jolt that the infant had no soul, that this moving, breathing body was just an empty shell, something not dead, yet not really living. The eyes were white, like boiled eggs, without pupils or irises, the features, even the sexual characteristics just rudimentary, mere sketches. As she tried to get her shocked breathing under control to keep the image steady, the homunculus opened his mouth that was caked with dried blood and started to scream. She moaned. The high-pitched screams were completely inhuman and sounded if anything like the screeches of a cat in heat.

Next to the crate, on the floor, Lucius began to feebly fight his bindings. As the empty eyes of the child blindly searched the room, Eleanor suddenly became aware of a connection. She fought her physical revulsion at being in any way in touch with this thing, but she could feel the bond despite herself. Desperately she waved to Dobby, who climbed up her chair and stood next to her on the seat, peering into the bowl. "Do you know where this is?" she whispered. The house elf shook his head. "Dobby does not know."

She took a deep breath. This meant that if she was going to find Lucius before it was too late, her only chance was to strengthen the bond to the homunculus and follow her instincts. Dumbledore had mentioned to her that as a Sartorius she would be able to rely on a connection. She directed her attention back to the bowl and bent her full awareness to the screaming abomination blindly staring up at her from the rippling water of the skrying bowl. With a start she realized that she had felt a faint echo of her current sensations outside the hidden obscuroom in the bookstore. Only then she had attributed it to witnessing the wanton destruction in the office.

A few seconds later the creak of a door distracted her and as she moved her focus she saw a door in the darker depths of the vault open and a black-clad man enter and step into the light. She had only once caught a brief glimpse of him when she had used the _imperium detego_ spell on Filch, but she was sure that this had to be George Lepdius, the chief Death Eater. He was a tall, gaunt man of about fifty-five or sixty.

For a moment she saw his face as he seemed to stare directly into her eyes and she felt herself recoil. Some magical accident had scarred the right side of his face, where she looked into an empty eye socket. The right corner of his mouth was missing and what was left was curled up in a feral sneer revealing several yellowed long teeth. The remaining left side of his features reminded her that he must have been a very striking and aristocratic looking man in his youth and before his disfigurement. His cruel lips were narrow and sharply cut, his nose arched in a blade-sharp curve and the iris of his almond-shaped left eye seemed almost as black as its pupil. He still had a full head of raven-black hair with two gray-white streaks in it that started at his temples.

Presently he walked past her and knelt down by Lucius. She drew nearer and saw his bony fingers unknot the bandage and unwind the wrappings from the blond wizard's arm. He was not gentle, but while her lover stared at him out of hate-filled grey eyes, she did not hear him make a single sound through his gag.

Presently Lepidus started to talk in a quiet, toneless voice, taunting him. "Now you are trying to honor the Malfoy name, putting on a brave front, now when it's too late. Your father and I gave you every opportunity to become the greatest wizard that ever served the Dark Lord, but you threw it all away. You were wavering even before, always putting your own ease and pleasure before your duty, defying us. Look at Bellatrix, stuck in Azkaban, because she stood up for her beliefs, and just a woman, she puts you to shame! And now this treachery, and over what? This stupid, red-haired Sartorius witch you are besotted with. You are married already, and what do you have to show for it? One boy to continue the line, while other muggle-loving wizards like the Weaslys breed like rabbits."

He ripped the end of the bandage from where it had stuck to the skin and grabbed a bowl and the bleeding knife, deepening the broad jagged gash he had cut into Lucius' arm before. Blood welled up and dripped into the bowl, while Lepidus resumed his monologue. The homunculus was still wailing feebly.

"So what if Narcissa doesn't want to ruin her figure with another pregnancy? She is pureblood and you should teach her her duties. Your mother certainly knew better. But then again, your father never learned of her sacrifice. Well, I think I should tell you, so you know before you die. Your two older sisters that looked so like your father, and you, nothing of your father in you, spitting image of your mother, have you ever wondered why? I am responsible for your birth."

That remark finally got a raise out of Lucius, who again fought his restraints, violently shook his head and tried to shout past his gag. Lepidus sneered at him. "Sorry, Lucius, would love to hear what you have to say about that, but I can't risk you using your mouth for spellwork, a nice 'accio wand', perhaps? Anyway, if you think I lay with your mother, you're wrong, had too much respect for her and for your father for that.

But I told her the ancient magic she needed in order to bear your father a son, a boy to continue the line and the name. She really loved him. Beats me why, he wasn't very good to her, but she knew his desire for an heir; and he was growing desperate. So I told her, helped her perform the spells and seal the curse. I didn't want another old family to go. A few weeks later she got pregnant with you. When the time was up she knew she had to pay the price, but she never told your father. Then, with the first breath you took, she gave up hers as the spells demanded. Her life became yours. Now that's dedication to family for you. And now look at you and your pathetic whore of a wife and spoilt brat of a son. That's what your mother's life bought for the Malfoys? The three of you disgust me!"

He put the bowl down that had filled with Lucius' blood while he had been talking and brutally rewrapped the bandage. "You know nothing would please me more than to kill Eleanor Sartorius before your eyes and watch you watch her die. I'll make her go like that Lenting girl you killed, but you won't have your voice and wand to help her along. She'll live and suffer as long as it will please me. We'll see, if baby Falco here isn't too hungry and you last long enough, I'll give you both a good sending off." Lucius spat at him through the gag, but Lepidus got up, gave him a friendly kick in the ribs and then bent over the homunculus with his bowl and started to feed the screaming child.

Eleanor watched a moment longer, immobilized by the horror of what she had just heard. She now saw tears streak down Lucius' face. He had his eyes shut tight and his head averted, so Lepidus would not see him cry. Then she lifted her wand and erased the image.

For a moment she rubbed her hands across her face, feeling pretty much like crying herself. There was only one course of action she could take. She needed to rescue Lucius before the bleeding killed him, and she needed to destroy the foul creation in the box that thrived and grew on his blood. However, this time she could not send any letters to the Ministry calling down the aurors. She didn't know where the dungeon was, would not know until she got there. Lucius needed help now. She had no time to locate him and then waste valuable hours arguing with people and getting help. She turned to Dobby. "Please help me one more time," she asked him. "I will need a warm cloak and I will need a broom. I'll find your master and I'll free him."

The house elf nodded, sniffing though his long nose. "Dobby served master's mother," he said sadly. "Dobby loved her. She was very good to all the house elves and she was beautiful as a Veela. Dobby never knew." Eleanor watched as he jumped back to the floor and soon after returned dragging one of Lucius heavy fur-lined winter coats behind him, and his master's black broom. "Master went to London using a _Gringotts _portkey," he said. She nodded, knowing that _Gringotts _routinely issued portkeys for their lobby during business hours to customers who had deposited more than one million galleons with them. She shrugged into the heavy cloak and then followed Dobby who took her back into the bedroom where one of the windows opened onto a narrow balcony. She mounted Lucius' broom, attuned herself to the connection that she still felt to Falco's homunculus and lifted up into the night sky.


	16. Rescue

**Rescue **

_"The fire you kindle for your enemy often burns yourself more than him."(Chinese Proverb)_

The old Malfoy broom was a temperamental piece of equipment. It was fast, no doubt, and she felt the miles of dark silent countryside quickly slide away underneath her, but each gust of wind made the damn thing buck like a shying horse, and besides it seemed to have a tendency to generally list to the left. She ducked her head down, held tight and used her arms and thighs to stay on course. Everything she was aware of drew her towards London, and soon she saw the patchwork of lights from the suburbs. She gave herself over to the connection that still tied her to the homunculus and felt the pull get ever stronger as she neared the City.

She would not have been able to point to the spot on a map, but suddenly had the urge to descend. She forced the broom down in a tight spiral, making herself invisible as she got lower and finally landed at the edge of what seemed either a park or an old cemetery. Gravel crunched under her shoes as she touched down and the broom tried to throw her with one last twist.

She dismounted, gripped the handle tightly and stowed the old Malfoy heirloom next to a lichen-covered wall behind some overhanging ivy. As soon as her hand touched the old masonry she felt a shudder run through her. She shook herself in disgust. She had become some kind of Geiger counter for her grandfather's creation, yet she was also thankful that this gave her a means to find her lover.

Following the wall and sensing her way more with her hands than being able to see it, she finally came towards a piece of masonry, that felt somewhat different. Her hands touched solid stone, but her sensitized mind felt an entryway. She cleared her thoughts and pulled out her wand. "Portam detego!" she whispered and felt the stones resolve under her hands. Her eyes detected a blurring effect in the near darkness, and a moment later she stood before an old iron-mounted wood door. She was breathing fast now and gripped her wand even harder. There was no telling if and when she would run into Lepidus. She gathered her courage and tapped the wood with her wand. "Alohomora!" The lock clicked and the heavy portal swung open.

She had half expected to be able to walk into the scene she had seen only a short while ago in the skrying bowl in Lucius' study, but instead a dark corridor stretched before her. She took a tentative step forward and again felt the presence of the homunculus dead ahead of her. For a moment she considered lighting her wand, but then decided against it. She hadn't even become visible yet, and preferred not to call any attention to herself. So instead she tapped her shoes with her wand and murmured: "Inaudibilis!" Noiselessly she glided over the old slippery flagstones feeling her way by running her left hand along the wall.

The corridor proceeded downwards at a steep, but mercifully even angle, curving a few times, but showing no branching as far as she could tell. Finally she came to a halt when the left wall suddenly dropped away from her searching hands and the slight movement of cool air persuaded her that she stood in a large vaulted room. She shuffled her feet forward, careful of any sudden dips or holes in the floor, until she arrived at the opposite wall. As her hands explored the water-slicked stones, she could feel another doorway, but the pull of the homunculus seemed weak. She continued past two more doors, until finally, at the fourth door she touched the handle with the absolute certainty that the dungeon she had seen lay behind it.

"Protego," she intoned, held up her wand and slipped back the latch. The door opened outwards and the sudden light that streamed out almost blinded her. She blinked a few times, but did not see any movement. Quickly she slipped through the doorway and pulled the heavy wood close behind her. Several wall-torches illuminated the room she recognized immediately from her skrying: there was the wooden box in the center, and right next to it on the floor Lucius' bound form. Back towards one of the walls lay the body of an unknown man in a jogging suit, most likely a muggle. She had not noticed him before, but realized he was the source of the foul stench in the room. The first food source of the homunculus was already starting to decompose.

Still invisible and noiseless she swiveled around, but could not see a trace of Lepidus. She rushed over to the blond wizard on the floor, knelt down and touched his face. His pale skin felt icy cold to the touch, but at the sensation his lids flew open and he stared at the empty space before him. "Visibilis," she said, and saw his grey eyes focus on her with some difficulty. "Lucius," she whispered. "I found you. I'll get you out." He tried to say something, but the gag prevented her from understanding him.

Quickly she tapped the ropes and the cloth that held the gag in place with her wand. "Resolvo," she murmured and saw the bindings fall away. Lucius coughed and she helped him spit out what seemed to be the rest of his former shirtsleeve. "He'll kill you!" her lover hissed at her as soon as he could speak. "He'll kill you in the worst way he can think of. We can't get out!" He tried to push himself up, but fell back groggily. "I'm finished and you can't move me and defend us both."

She grabbed him by his coat, pulled him into a sitting position and pushed her face right to his. "We've been there before outside the Oswald's place. Don't give me that shit! Why are you so damn ready to give up all the time? I've had it with your fucking death-wish!" She picked up her wand "Instauro argutiam," she incanted, watching the flame energy from the tip of her wand sink into him. At least his gaze seemed to clear somewhat and he put his uninjured arm behind him to keep himself propped up.

"Where's your wand?" she asked in a hurried whisper. "Behind the chair at the…" At that moment a door on the opposite side of the dungeon slammed into a wall with the force and sound of a pistol shot. She didn't even look up, but darted forward and curled up in a ball to break her fall as she scrambled for cover. Behind her the green fire of a wand-blast exploded. "Protego!" she gasped, brought her legs underneath her, threw off Lucius' heavy cloak, and dove off again, so that now she had the wooden box with the homunculus between herself and her attacker.

As she risked a glance upwards she saw Lepidus circle her, wand at the ready. "Crucio!" he shouted as he found a free line of fire, she whipped up her wand and sent out a deflecting spell. Green sparks blasted by her and hit the floor. "Impedimenta," she returned, only to find her spell reflected as well. He was an incredibly fast fighter with lighting-quick reflexes, and while her Defense against the Dark Arts training at Durmstrang had been intensive and solid, she was out of practice. The only thing that helped her was Lepidus reluctance to endanger his prized homunculus, but she knew after a minute into the fight that she was merely stalling. Perhaps Lucius had been right.

She tore herself out of her fatalistic thoughts as another lightning-bolt hissed past her ear, singeing some of her hair in the process. She moved away from the burning smell directing a stupefying spell over her shoulder. Lepidus evil and delighted laugh told her that she had missed again. "You fight like a mudblood," he taunted her. "You aren't even trying. I guess you are better in bed than with a wand, eh? Expelliarmus! Well, we'll soon find out. Impedimenta! Debilito! Ha, that was pathetic! Stop running! Catax! Don't fall now, my dear! Wouldn't want to hit that pretty face of yours. Acerbitate afflicto! Come on, you can't win. Expelliarmus!!!"

She had tripped on the hem of her dress and his last curse hit her full force in the chest, blasting her wand out of her hand and sending her flying backwards until she smacked into a heavy chair. Her head cracked against one of the armrests and she saw stars as Lepidus slowly advanced on her, wand at the ready. She tried to get up as he loomed above her, his lips drawn back in a skeletal grin. "Imperio!" he incanted at her, and she felt her whole body go limp, all thoughts of resistance and urgency draining from her. Everything seemed to happen in a thick haze of apathy. It was so easy to let go, not to think, not to fight, to just sink into the cold dark voice that gave her instructions.

Eleanor slowly got up as she was commanded, stood face to face with the man who most likely had killed her uncle and his family and looked into the abyss of his remaining eye. "Well," he gloated. "Time to finish what I've started so many years ago. You know I had your sweet aunt Lena stand before me just like you do now. I wonder if you are as compliant as she was. Take off your dress." A nagging voice in her head told her that what she was asked to do was not right, but she watched with serene detachment as her hands moved up to her throat and she started undoing the row of buttons that ran down her gown. The dark-haired man before her watched her intently. "Drop it," he instructed her, and she shrugged out of the sleeves of her dress and let it fall to the floor. The cold air in the dungeon that now hit her skin seemed to cut through the haze somewhat and she shook her head to clear the fog in her mind, but he just lifted a corner of his mouth in mockery.

"Don't even think about it, my precious. Now, the rest of your clothes!" Obediently she slipped out of her underwear. Now that she was completely naked she had Lepidus' full attention. He took a step towards her, his left hand stretched out, when she suddenly saw him waver and then slowly topple over sideways. A different voice seemed to shout something, but in her dazed mind everything happened in slow motion. However, as soon as Lepidus hit the ground, the mental bonds that had fettered her will snapped. She drew herself up with a gasp and in an instant saw the chief Death Eater sprawled on the floor and Lucius Malfoy standing over him, swaying dizzily, but with deadly determination in his eyes as he directed his wand at his opponent and snarled. "You will never touch her!"

Still, Lepidus was faster than his weakened attacker. He whipped his wand round and pointed at her. "Accende!" he hissed, and the next moment she felt a pain that was impossible to describe and impossible to bear. Searing flames licked up at her naked skin and she screamed in agony as she fell to her knees. She did not hear Lucius shout "Maledictionem reverso!" nor did she see Lepidus leap up, shove him out of the way and make for the door.

As the burning spell lifted and she found herself crouching on the floor drawing fresh air into her scorched lungs, she saw both men sprawled on the floor. This would be the only chance they'd get. She sobbed with pain as she crawled behind the chair where she saw her wand lie on the floor and then made her way over to Lepidus. She licked her fire-parched lips. "Petrificus totalus!" she cried hoarsely and felt his body stiffen. Then she moved over to Lucius who opened his eyes and groaned as he tried to shake off an impedimenta spell. Blackness covered her, and she didn't even feel it when she hit the ground.

When she next opened her eyes, she was certain that she was waking up to the worst pain in her entire life. Her head had surely been split open and her skin seemed to be burning up in some kind of horrible fever. Slowly she blinked through the agony of having to focus in the light. A cool hand lay against her cheek and brushed her hair from her forehead. She saw a blurred outline of a pale face, then she was lifted up and the rim of a bowl was pushed against her mouth. She curved her lips around it and tried drinking the liquid that coolly lapped against her tongue. It didn't taste like water, and there was a bitterness in it that reminded her of cold smoke and ashes. Still she drank greedily until the bowl was removed. Her vision cleared somewhat and she now recognized Lucius' face above her.

"Don't drink too much," he said gently. "I think this will be enough to work." "Work for what," she croaked. "Look at your hands," he told her. She slowly lifted her right arm, saw the silver of her portkey bracelet dulled and blackened and gasped in terror.

Her skin looked red, blistered and raw. Panicked she glanced down at herself, but found that her body was wrapped in a large fur-lined black cloak. Dimly she remembered a small house-elf handing her the coat, then the events of the evening rushed back at her, the dungeon, Lepidus, the burning spell. She struggled to get up, while Lucius tried to keep her restrained.

"It's all right," he tried to assure her. "All right?! What about Lepidus? What about…?" The blond wizard holding her shook his head. "Lepidus is still petrified. Once he held still long enough for you to get your aim, you did a good job on him. Right now, just look at your hand."

She found it hard to focus on her burned and destroyed skin, imagining that the rest of her could look no better than this stripped and oozing claw, but slowly she started noticing a change, the blisters flattened themselves and new baby-pink skin started forming. Soon that had faded to the light beige of her normal skin hue. Gently his free hand pulled apart the folds of his cloak that had covered her and she saw her naked body beneath, looking as she remembered it.

For a brief moment he laid his cool hand on her stomach, his fingers curling in a caress. "Fortunately Lepidus kept a lot of potions around, and not all are poisons, though I would guess he used the ash water potion to prolong some of his victims' agony by burning them repeatedly. He liked this curse better than the _cruciatus_. It was the one that destroyed his own face."

Eleanor shuddered, then looked at her lover. "And you?" she asked. His lips curved in a smile. "Your restorative spell helped. I'm sorry it took me so long to interfere. You gave him a good run for his money, though. I've never seen him work so hard, before he could get someone under the imperius. But I still wasn't very fast. I had to wait until his focus was completely on you. I am glad you are that distracting without your clothes."

She lifted her eyebrows. "Oh, so you stood by all calm and collected while he forced me to undress myself?" He pursed his lips. "Calm and collected isn't really what springs to mind," he said. "But sometimes you have to work with all the assets you have…" She put her healed hand against his mouth. "Don't go digging a hole for yourself," she teased him and then grew sober again. "Thank you, Lucius, for saving my life." He kissed her fingers. "Likewise," he answered softly.

She found she felt much better, and as she stirred, Lucius helped her sit up. She had lain on a low table with steel chains and manacles fastened to the sides. Quickly she slipped off it, not daring to guess what scenes it had witnessed. The flagstones were icy underneath her bare feet and she pulled the heavy cloak around her as she shivered in the cold air. The room around her looked unfamiliar. It was stuffed with cabinets that held numerous labeled potion bottles and strange implements the use of which she didn't even want to begin to contemplate. "Where are we?" she asked. Lucius guided her to the door with his hand at the small of her back. "The room Lepidus was in, before he surprised you," he said simply. He leaned over and opened a heavy oak door for her, revealing a view of the now familiar dungeon. She saw the wood crate, and in the place of her lover the stiff and prostrate form of the chief Death Eater.

Lucius led Eleanor up to his opponent, held out her wand to her, then stood away from her. "Here," he said quietly. "I think you have stronger claims for revenge now than I do." She took the wand in surprise and stared back at him. "What do you mean?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow. "It should be obvious. I cede my revenge to you. He tortured and murdered your family, and he burned you. You may kill him in the fashion you like," he answered calmly. She swallowed and turned to face him fully. "Lucius, I don't want to…"

"You give up your right?" he asked. "No!" she shook her head, red hair flying. "There is no right to begin with. You can't just go and execute an unarmed opponent! Killing someone in self-defense is one thing, but this is murder!" He shrugged his shoulders. "So? If you don't want him, I will kill him gladly."

For a moment she stopped herself. She had witnessed what Lepidus had told Lucius about his mother. Who was she to measure another man's hatred and judge it? She wavered, but then she laid her hand on the blond wizard's arm. "Lucius, I heard you speak of his part in the death of the Lenting family, I saw what he told you about your mother's sacrifice and your birth, I have witnessed for myself what kind of man he is: I felt him in my mind and in the flames that burned my body. Still, if you murder him, you make yourself his equal. He will have won. Defy him, even in this!"

His pale, grey eyes bored into hers, unblinking. As before she met and held his gaze. His voice sounded harsh as he asked her: "Very well, what do you propose instead?" She shrugged her shoulders. "He is petrified. He already has a warrant out for him for using an imperius on Filch, the Hogwarts janitor. There is enough evidence here to condemn him five lifetimes over, perhaps even sentence him to a Dementor's kiss. Let the aurors pick him up. Let him rot in Azkaban. Let them drag his name through the dirt. He mocked you and your family. Let them say that George Lepidus died a madman in prison, choking to death on his own malice."

She felt the muscles in his arm relax. He turned away thinking about what she said. She watched him for a moment fighting his own demons, then walked away from him and over to the wood crate that held the homunculus. In this proximity the connection to the mindless body was so strong, the physical revulsion so powerful, she felt dizzy with nausea. Suddenly the child opened his mouth for another wail of hunger. Eleanor raised her wand, and became acutely aware that Lucius now faced her from the other side of the box, wand at the ready.

She stiffened. "You will fight me over this?" she challenged him. He looked at her, his icy grey eyes unreadable. His lips narrowed. "I could, couldn't I? Then I'll take the prize for myself and feed him on Lepidus' blood. He's already twelve days old. Another twenty-eight to go and I will have been the one to restore the Dark Lord to his rightful place." Silence stretched between them. She now felt a sickness that surpassed even her reaction to the homunculus. So it was to end like this?

She winced as Lucius began to speak again. "Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice and expression still carefully neutral. She balled her fists. Images flashed before her: Lucius asking her about the homunculus in his library, slapping her for opening her eyes, stepping in front of her to deflect Lepidus' _cruciatus_, slumping down the wall in her hallway, grinning at her in the steam-clouds of her shower, crying over the death of his mother, holding her and giving her the ash-water to heal her horrible burn wounds. She groaned in frustration.

He repeated his question, urgency in his voice. "Do you trust me, Eleanor?" 'Common sense be damned,' she thought. "Damn you! Yes, I do," she said. She lowered her wand, shocked to realize that if he betrayed that trust she wouldn't care one way or the other any more. He exhaled, nostrils flaring, and she realized he had held his breath all the while she had deliberated.

Slowly he also lowered his wand. "Then leave it for the aurors, just as I am leaving him," he said. "Neither of us gets what we want, yet we both win." "What of your allegiance to the Dark Lord?" she asked. "Haven't you sworn to serve him and help bring him back?"

For a moment he compressed his lips. "I have, and I do not renounce my oath. But I chose not to compromise my honor to do so. You saved me, and I made my promise to you not to harm you. I also acknowledge that this thing that your grandfather created is your property, not mine. I will not steal from a pureblood witch. There will be other opportunities to further the Dark Lord's designs."

He suddenly seemed tired, as if the abuse of the last few days was catching up with him again. "Come, help me gag and bind Lepidus. I don't want to take any chances. I know they'll take ages at the Ministry, before they get into gear. Damn bureaucrats, just like muggles. They'll need ten forms, five permits and everything in triplicate before they even move a wand." She felt her own tension drain out of her and walked around the crate throwing an arm around him. "Let me get back into my clothes first," she said. "I'm freezing."


	17. Back at the Manor

**Back at the Manor**

_"You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you don't trust enough." (Frank Crane)_

A little while later Eleanor faced Lucius at the doorway of the dungeon. They looked back one last time on the corpse of the dead muggle, the bound body of the chief Death Eater and the wooden box that contained the screeching homunculus. Then Lucius laid his arm across her back, lifted and lit his wand, and they walked up the long corridor that led them back to the fresh cold night air outside.

Eleanor retrieved the Malfoy broom from its hiding place and held it out to the blond wizard before her. He shot her an evil smile. "You rode that thing all the way down here?" he asked. "How often did you fall off?" "I didn't," she replied indignantly. "You are one determined witch," he nodded. "That or the iron grip of your thighs…" She swatted his chest in protest. "Come now, I know from experience, couldn't throw you either," he defended himself.

He levitated the broom, then gallantly took her arm to help her seat herself before mounting behind her and encircling her with his arms. "Where can I take you, my dear?" he asked. "Well, it's got to be the WOM owlery in the City first, for a letter to the aurors. Then I think you still owe me a Friday night date."

He lifted off, moving his body closer to her and peering over her shoulder. "Under one condition," he demanded. "You're not going to run away from me this Saturday morning. I think we deserve a good night's sleep first, but tomorrow you are mine for the day – and the night." She leaned back into him with a purr of contentment. "I think I might be persuaded," she drawled.

After a brief stopover in London and the dispatch of an owl they finally touched down on the forecourt of Malfoy Manor. She felt Lucius control the broom with his legs as it tried the same weird last minute bucking motion on him and grinned. So the broom's temper had been nothing personal. She tried to curl her stiff and cold hands. Despite the wizard's borrowed cloak she was freezing. Again he put his arm around her as he guided her up the broad flat steps that led to the deep, cavernous portal of his family home.

Suddenly a thought struck her. It was one thing to use a portkey that led into his private suite of rooms, but another to brazenly walk right through his house in the face of his whole household. She whispered her concern to him as he lifted the heavy latch of the door and heard a mirthless laugh in return. "My dear, I have had breakfast, lunch and dinner with my wife's lover for quite a while now. He happens to teach my son, apart from bedding the lovely Narcissa. So while I appreciate your sensibilities, they are entirely misplaced here."

She shivered, unsure whether it was from the cold or over the Malfoys' chilling family affairs, and felt his encircling hand briefly chafe her upper arm for warmth. A house elf stood at the ready in the large dim front hall, and she marveled at the vigilance of the servants, even this late in the evening.

Without acknowledgement Lucius handed him the broom, gently lifted his spare cloak off her shoulders, then pulled off his own, and left the poor elf practically buried under black bulky robes and fur before leading her up a generous curved staircase to the second floor of the house. After a few turns she recognized the hallway as the one he had carried her down on her first visit. Lucius was walking rapidly now, his arm still around her and practically propelling her forward.

The door he eventually opened did not lead to his bedroom, however, but to his study, which still looked the way she had left it earlier. She had little time to survey her surroundings, though, because as soon as Lucius had stepped through, he pushed the door shut behind them and she felt herself slammed none to gently into the hard carved wood.

She gasped at the impact and purely by instinct her hand rushed down to her wand sheath, but he was faster, grabbing and pinning her wrists by her sides and using the rest of his body to keep her in place. One of his knees shoved between her legs and a split second later his mouth was on her lips. While she relaxed somewhat on recognizing his intention, she found it hard to keep up with the assault on her face that had less to do with kissing and more with devouring. He was all teeth and tongue with little gentleness and grace, and the fact that he had not had the opportunity to shave over the last few days didn't help.

When he realized she was not going to defend herself, he released her arms and instead buried his hands in her hair, keeping her face positioned for him, and after a few seconds of surprised discomfort she found she stared to respond to his stark undisguised need. Her body arched off the door and into his, her now freed hands roamed over his back and flanks and clawed at his robes. She started to moan as his mouth moved to her neck, sucking and biting and returning over and over again to her now swollen and tingling lips. A thick, warm heaviness settled in her center, that she knew only too well and that over the last few weeks she had started to associate with him. "Need you – now…" he mumbled hoarsely, and she felt herself nod in assent.

He pulled her off the door and without releasing her, without even stopping his kisses, turned her and walked them both over to his desk, pushing her until the backs of her legs hit the flat wood surface. Her hands scrabbled at his ruined coat and shirt, while he lifted his head briefly enough to groan at the sight of a full row of buttons stretching from the collar of her dress all the way down the slim skirt. "You will be the death of me one of these days," he growled.

Slowly she moved her hand over to her wand sheath once more, and this time he let her. No time for niceties. "Vestimentascedo," she repeated his former spell, concentrating on both of them, and was glad to see that the bandage that still covered his wound was unaffected. The rest of their clothes lay in piles at their feet. She placed her wand to the side and turned to him once more as his hands curled around her hips and he lifted her so she now sat on the cool, smooth wood of his desk, but before he could move in between her legs, she put her hand on his chest and stopped him.

Eleanor was surprised that despite his former vehemence, he froze immediately, grey eyes focusing on her. "Not like this," she told him, taken aback at her own words and reaction. She had not planned any of it, but seemed to respond to something that was only now surfacing. He lifted an eyebrow. "I can't do this to your face right now," she tried to explain herself. "I want you, but I – I…" she stammered, failed, unsure of what she really wanted. She took a deep breath. "Take me from behind, please," she finished finally.

As she slid down the tabletop and against him, she registered a strange look on his face. For a moment his full lips compressed. His eyes became unreadable, but then his hands were back on her and with the same forceful intensity he had displayed before her flipped her and pushed her over onto the desk, barely giving her time to brace herself against the wood with her forearms. Seconds later he used his knee once again to open her thighs to him and she felt his hands at her opening. Without caress or preamble he parted her and dipped a finger into her spreading her wetness around. She hissed in surprise and pushed back to meet him.

She heard a subdued groan and glancing briefly over her shoulder she saw him grasp his already fully erect cock and give it a few quick hard strokes before focusing back on her. 'Lucius Malfoy in a hurry,' she thought, but her smile was cut off quickly and she gasped when he moved into her with one harsh thrust. The front of the desk cut into the flesh of her thighs and she was thrown forward. His hands gripped her hips and without further preliminaries he started to fuck her.

'Savage,' she thought, before the sensations and demands of her body took over. No studied cruelty, no calculated brutality, he was simply savage in the fulfillment of his needs, and she wondered what had brought it on. Then she gave herself over to the feel of the cool sweat-slicked wood beneath her, the pressure of the unyielding planes of his desk and the heat and friction radiating from the swift rough strokes of his cock that shook her body.

She was amazed at the intensity of her own reactions. Barely minutes had passed since they had walked into his study. He had taken no measures to bring her level of arousal up to his, yet here she was, splayed over his furniture, gasping and panting in full expectation of release. She matched her ragged breath to the rhythmical slap of their flesh and concentrated inwards, where she felt old familiar tension build. Not seeing him actually helped her focus, but then his pace changed, grew more irregular, jagged, and she realized that at this race he would beat her after all.

She had no problem giving him his release without attaining hers, but just as she had resigned herself, his left hand suddenly left her hip and she felt him bend forward, over her, as his fingers snagged a thick fistful of her curls and he pulled.

With a cry of pained surprise she arched up, head thrown back, throat curved, her hands pushing against the desktop, her body raising up to meet his. His next thrusts hit her at a completely different angle and her brief flare of anger dissolved in the immediate reaction of her body. All she managed was a hoarse shout as she felt herself tumble over the edge of her arousal, and her cunt gripped him in a series of violent contractions that seemed to take him right along with her.

He moved against her a few more times, growling in his release, then she sensed his movements in her subside and for a moment his body came to rest atop hers, his hands placed to she sides of her shoulders propping him up. The respite turned out to be brief, as he soon withdrew and straightened himself. Then he reached down to lift her and turn her back to him. Once she faced him again, he let go of her. His face was still flushed with passion, but his eyes had the same shuttered look she had noticed before he had pushed her over his desk.

"Why," he asked. She licked her lips, trying to get her breath back and looked at him in surprise. "Why what?" she asked. He clenched his long hands at his sides. "Why did you ask me to have you face away from me just then? Was it because of him? Did you imagine him in my stead?" She stared at him now, suddenly deciphering the expression of his grey eyes. He was hurt and angry, and with a rush of horrifying clarity she understood.

She slumped against the desk. "Oh gods, Lucius, that is so sick!" He bared his teeth at her as he spoke. "I saw you, I saw him as you undressed for him." Her thoughts raced. His need and the savagery of it had been a desperate attempt to reclaim her. She couldn't even imagine to what extent George Lepidus must have dogged Lucius' life, and wondered briefly, what else the chief Death Eater had taken from him over the years.

With a new resolve she stood up straight, battling every impulse to rant at him for crediting her with that kind of perversity. She forced calmness into her voice. "Lucius, the only way I will ever imagine Lepidus is in a nightmare where I wake up screaming with the terror of being burned alive. In fact, if you ever feel the need to turn me off sex forever, just mention him and what he most likely wanted to do to me in the dungeon and you'll be doing just fine."

She saw him relax a little, but realized she still owed him her true motivation. Gently she laid a hand on his uninjured arm. "I was under the _imperius_, Lucius. I couldn't help myself. Somewhere in the prison of the curse was this voice screaming at me in fear, in disgust, and I could do nothing about it. You really want to know why I turned away?" She indicated the large brass bowl filled with water that still sat at the other end of the table.

"Tonight when I came here, Dobby helped me find you. He suggested I skry for you. So I saw you. I saw Lepidus feed the homunculus with your blood, I heard him tell you about how your mother sacrificed herself for your father's ambition. And when I saw you cry, I knew that you had stopped fighting, that you had accepted fate, and that you would die. I was frantic, because I did not know if I could find you in time. And when I did, I almost doomed us both. In fact I made it worse. You would still die, but only after having been made to witness my death. Have you ever been under the _imperius_?" she asked.

He closed his eyes briefly, and nodded. "It was my first time," she said. "You must have felt it, how it kills something inside you. A sense of self, of integrity." She hesitated, then looked at him again. "A piece of your soul." Something unfroze in him at her words and he stepped up to her again, gently putting his arms around her. "I know," he whispered.

She swallowed. "Then there was the fire," she continued. Her voice sounded broken now. "I have never felt pain like it. And you – you rescued me, and healed me. And – and just now, I wanted you, I needed to feel you in me, to ground me, to make me realize that I was actually alive." She broke off, again finding it hard to put her emotions into words. "I needed the raw force of it, the animal part, not the love-making, no gentleness, but if I had looked at you, I – I…" She felt herself choking and finally gave in. "I would have bawled my eyes out," she finally finished, burying her face at his shoulder and clenching her fists in an effort not to let him hear her sobbing. He must have sensed her embarrassment, because he did not comment, but simply tightened his embrace and held her to him.

Finally she felt ready to face him again. She lifted her head, brushing her tears from her face. "I wouldn't have been able to do it, to go through with it when we both needed it, that's why I turned away." She sniffed.

He looked down at her now and gently stretched out his thumb to wipe the last traces of her tears away. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize…" he simply said, causing another lump to form in her throat. She really had to try and lighten the mood. At this rate she would eventually flood his study, and completely disgrace the Sartorius name. "It's all right. I'm just an art historian moonlighting as a schoolteacher. I'm not used to life on the edge. Tonight was a bit – intense."

The corners of his mouth stretched as he caught the change in her mood. "Well, you had me thinking otherwise," he smiled. "Dumbledore, the old fool, should have hired you for Defense against the Dark Arts, instead of that ridiculous Polish grandmother. You know, you managed to stand up to the wizard the Dark Lord himself chose for his lieutenant and his personal body-guard."


	18. Just Rewards

**Just Rewards **

_"Neutiquam officium liberi esse hominis puto Cum is nihil promereat, postulare id gratiae apponi sibi. - No free man will ask as favor, what he can not claim as reward." (Terence: Andria II, 1, 32)_

He lazily traced his hand down her front. "So with the necessities out of the way, what would you like to do next?" She pretended to give it some thought. "My dear Lucius, at the moment, you remind me of a gooseberry in August, and I'm not sure I like it." she finally declared. He arched an eyebrow. "Come again? How am I a gooseberry?" She winced at her rather flat attempt at a joke – anything was better right now than the waterworks – then solved the riddle for him. "Well, you're over-ripe and rather prickly." The blond wizard's eyes widened in surprise and his hand scraped over the stubble at his chin. Then he pursed his lips. She thought she detected a trace of the curse of all blondes, a slight rise of color in his cheeks. He actually seemed a little embarrassed.

She smiled at him to take the sting out of her assessment and he eventually played along, offering her his arm in mock formality. "If you can still bring yourself to accompany me," he declared. "My facilities are at your service." She curtseyed with an evil grin and laid her hand in the crook of his uninjured arm as he stepped over their discarded clothes and walked her through his bedroom and into the cool marble-clad luxury of his bathroom. He looked around, called his wand to him and lit several candles and torches. Then he turned to her. "Would a bath be acceptable?" he asked politely. "Perfectly," she smiled. He flicked his wand in the direction of the large sunken tub and intoned: "Diffundo aqua!" A shimmer of light filled the dark marble depths for a moment and then she saw flames reflected in still water.

Lucius took her hand, but as he was leading her towards the bath, she paused. "Your arm," she said. "Please let me." He faced her and held still as she loosened the knot that held the bandage in place and gently started to unwrap the soiled and bloodied cloth. He did not flinch as she pulled off the last scraps that had fused with the deep, ugly gash that Lepidus bleeding knife had made. For a moment she looked at the crimson stain on his pale skin, clenching her teeth in anger, then she steeled herself for what she had planned to do. One of her elective classes at Durmstrang had been empathic healing, an art, that only few witches and wizards mastered. While the skill was prized, it was attained at some personal expense. She gently ran her fingers down his skin, avoiding to touch the wound, then looked at him.

"Trust me," she said softly. He realized that it was not a question. A moment later she held her hand over his arm and he saw her lips move noiselessly. Her lids lowered over her green eyes and he noticed to his horror that the skin at her arm began to redden, then open and peel back until she sported a wound identical to his. A thin trail of blood ran down her forearm and her face had turned white. "Eleanor, no…" he protested, but she gave a sharp hiss and blindly grasped his hand that tried to restrain her. He was distracted from further action by the fact that the insistent burning and throbbing that hat been with him for over four days now, ever since Lepidus had first opened the vein in his arm, subsided. He could actually see how the wound began to close until nothing was left but a small, white, star-shaped scar.

Eleanor had begun to sway slightly, and he stretched out his hands to steady her. She still had her eyes shut tight, and her lips began to move again. He noticed that the same changes that she effected in him now took place with her and her cut also closed up. Finally she seemed to snap out of her trance and looked at him, her arm now scarred similar to his. She exhaled slowly: "Oh, I'm glad it worked," she sighed. "I hadn't attempted it for quite a while." "How did you do that?" he asked. "Empathicura," she explained. "We had Chiron Maas, the famous healer, teach it the last year I was in school. My best friend and I both had a terrible crush on him. So we took it for elective studies. Pretty stupid of us. We learned by curing all the quiddich injuries that came into the school hospital: broken bones, concussions, bludger bruises. Looking back I have to say we were crazy."

He rubbed his hand over his skin, then touched her scar. "I have heard of it, but never seen it performed," he said. Then realizing that she had elected to share his pain for a while in order to help him, he added: "Thank you." She smiled and turned to the tub, dipping a foot in the water. "One good turn deserves another," she said lightly. "You gave me the ash water potion." The next minute she had submerged herself in the warm liquid of the bath. He saw the outline of her creamy skin in the water contrasted to the fiery hues of her hair that fanned out behind her. For a moment he watched her as she closed her eyes and relaxed, then he joined her.

They spent a few minutes simply enjoying the soothing caresses of the warm water, floating around and touching each other lazily. She found herself humming tunelessly, until Lucius shot her an inquisitive glace out of grey eyes. She blushed, putting her legs beneath her and standing in a crouch, so that only her head and slicked back hair appeared above the water. "So, what's going to happen next," she asked. "You will become chief Death Eater?" He executed a slow half-turn and faced her. His face showed alertness now. "I would assume, so," he answered with forced casualness.

She stared at him. "Assume, so? You could claim that position or refuse it. It would be your choice, would it not?" He focused on her now, eyes boring into hers to gauge her reaction. "And my choice would determine the nature of our relationship? Is that what you are implying?" As usual, his quick Slytherin mind had no problem paring things down to the essentials of his own options. She slowly shook her head, faintly surprised at her own answer. "No it would not," she said. "As we discussed at my house, as long as we can respect each other's choices and can keep our goals separated, I do not see why we should not enjoy each other's company. I will not serve Voldemort, but neither will I interfere in your decisions, as long as they do not endanger myself, my friends or my property. After all, it's not like we are married or anything."

He shook himself with a wry laugh at that suggestion, droplets of water launching from his blonde hair. "You know, you'd be surprised how many wizards and witches with much greater differences are ending up married." She gave him a stern look. "Are you proposing, Mr. Malfoy?" She had aimed to be sarcastic, but stopped herself at the brief shadow that seemed to cross his face. "No," he said soberly. "The ancient houses eschew divorce, as you must know yourself. I will never be free of the commitments that were made on my behalf, even if I wish to be. And if you think of continuing the Sartorius name, you will eventually need to enter into your own commitments. I would only hope that you will chose an honorable wizard of an old house with a pure bloodline who will treat you with the respect you deserve."

She had rarely seen him speak with such seriousness, and she was quite taken aback by his answer. "The Sartorius name…" she mused. "I hadn't even thought about it. Marriage, kids, hell, I'm just now holding down my first wizarding job." He compressed his lips. "You have responsibilities to your family and your house," he said simply, and she felt generations of pureblood wizards backing his words. "I just hope that your own judgment will allow you to make a better choice in a husband than was made for me for a wife. At least you'll have no-one interfering in your decision."

Time for some honesty on her part. "You might," she said frankly, moving her hands, indicating him and her and the space they occupied. "This might." He lowered his head, acknowledging the truth in her answer for himself. "I am honored," he replied. "Don't let it, though. You are not a muggle or a mudblood, free to follow every undisciplined whim. Never forget who you are. – Though," he added with a crooked smile and a tone of mock menace in his voice. "You may want to hold off introducing any betrothed of yours and leaving me along with him for any extended period of time."

She shook her head, smiling back. "I'm not about to get handfasted to anyone just yet. I am just glad to be alive. My biggest problem will be what to do about Dumbledore and my teaching at Hogwarts, knowing what I know. I'll be sitting on the information that a member of the council of governors is also the chief Death Eater. I will need to look for another job. It's more than dishonorable to accept payment from people I'm lying to."

The blond wizard facing her paused, realizing why she had really asked him about his plans. She had needed to know for her own choices, and the question hadn't really been about him at all. As so often before, she had again managed to surprise him. "Well, at least find something else to do besides teaching about muggles, for Hecate's sake," he finally suggested. "It's a despicable occupation! Do you even have to work? Your means should be sufficient to…"

She cut off his words, deciding to ignore his disdainful remarks about muggles. Lucius would never consent to respect anyone else but a pureblood, no matter how much the attitude annoyed her. "Lucius I'd go mental, just sitting around somewhere doing nothing, living off the proceeds of my heritage. I know a lot of wizards do, but look at your own wife and her mock occupation of organizing society events. I'd rather swallow my own wand."

He conceded her point with a small smile. "I wouldn't mind keeping you occupied to a certain extent," he then suggested with a leer. She grinned at him. "Better consider what you are asking for," she warned him. "It seems I like demanding jobs."

He really didn't need more of an invitation to move into her space and pull her to him, but at his first attempt at a kiss, she finally put up her arms in mock defense. "No more, I'll beg for mercy, if I need to," she complained. "What now?" he protested. She disentangled herself. "Right, sit still and let me do this."

He released her with an exasperated look, while she turned, looking up at some shelves next to the sink. She stretched out her hand. "Accio tray!" she commanded and seconds later held a beautifully carved black lacquer tray in her hands that contained an elegant mother-of-pearl switchblade razor, a china soap dish and a badger-hair brush. Her lover raised an eyebrow, but had no time to comment as she next summoned a face-cloth, which she dipped in the water and heated with a spell as hot as she could stand to hold it.

"Face me," she instructed him, "and close your eyes." He realized what she was planning to do and she saw his grey eyes flicker nervously. "You really know how to handle yourself with one of these?" His glance indicated the switchblade razor. She shot him an evil grin. "You know I can do empathicura," she reassured him. "So if anything should go wrong…" She trailed off suggestively.

He made a show of backing up to the stairs and settling in. "Very reassuring, my dear," he growled. But after a last glance at her, he actually slowly closed his eyes. She first placed the hot cloth over his face, hearing his surprised intake of breath as he felt the heat of it. She gently smoothed it over his cheeks and chin for a little while, then removed it and placed it aside.

As she worked up a lather in the soap dish she noticed he was watching again. She smiled to herself, deciding to relax her orders. "Curious?" she asked as she covered his skin. "Nervous," he confessed, then quickly closed his mouth as her brush moved in. She surveyed her handiwork so far, slowly picked up the razor and pulled the handle and blade apart. She had used to do this for her last boyfriend on occasion, who had regarded it as a treat, so she was confident, that Lucius would be none the worse for her performance.

Gently she worked the razor around the contours of his face, moving him with light taps of her fingers for best access. She eventually felt the tension drain out of him, although he watched her intently as she slowly removed the lather stroke by stroke and wiped the sharp blade clean on the cloth. Finally she was done and surveyed her handiwork – she had not drawn any blood, and as she ran her hand along his cheek and down the side of his jaw and throat, his skin felt perfectly smooth.

She gave the razor another swipe along the cloth and carefully folded it back up. "All done," she announced cheerfully. Lucius gave her one last glance, then cupped some water in his hands and cleaned off the remaining soap. She vanished the dirty cloth, then arranged the shaving utensils back on the tray and used a banishing spell to send it back to its place on the shelf.

As she was still intent on guiding its flight, she felt him come up on her from behind and pull her into his embrace. His face bent to her ear as he murmured. "I think I have a house-elf, that desperately needs to be made a present of some of Draco's old clothes. My barbering so far has been abysmal in comparison. Where did you learn this?" She slipped around in his arms. "I practiced on muggles…" She wriggled her eyebrows and trailed off suggestively. "By the way, you may kiss me, if you wish."

His grey eyes flickered and his lips curved in an amused sneer. "Oh, I may, may I?" With that, his hands cupped her face as he moved in to finally claim her mouth and she found as before, that the ministrations of his lips and tongue diffused any attempt at coherent thought. She doubted she could ever tire of this. As she relaxed into his caresses and moved against him lazily in the water, she felt his grip on her tighten and he slowly began to pull them under.

She quickly gasped for breath, and then the water closed above them. He never relinquished her lips. Gods, she had never attempted to kiss anyone under water, and the feeling was quite extraordinary. Her eyes were closed now, everything came down to warm skin and warm water. She moaned and felt air bubbles rise. They both stayed down as long as they could, of course making this into a competition just like about anything else, and finally surfaced spluttering, pushing each other's hair out of their faces. She was panting, catching her breath. "Lost for words?" he smiled.

"But Lucius, do you really need me to tell you, that you are breath-taking?" she teased back. "Ah, but certainly, my dear, you do not know the true fragility of my ego," he purred. She needed to stifle a laugh at that. He was the most supremely self-confident and arrogant man she had ever met.

A new thought struck her and quickly she surveyed the amount of space she had, then jack-knifed and pushed herself under water again, diving head down this time until she touched his legs. She felt him shuffle his feet to move backwards in surprise, but she hung on and brought her head in to nip at the skin of his thighs as she made her way back up. Even with her eyes closed she had no problems locating the velvety shape of his semi-erect cock floating above her. She held herself in position by grasping his hips and slipped him into her mouth, hearing the rumble of his groan under water as he felt her purpose. Again she stayed down, caressing him with her lips and tongue until she thought her lungs would burst, then surfaced.

When she had dashed the water from her eyes she was delighted to see his features relaxed into a slack mask of pleasure. But Lucius was not content to stay passive for long and in a little while they had a veritable naval battle on their hands, as they chased each other, dived to launch daring attacks, rolled over and under each other and resorted to pinching and tickling to break free. Lucius finally asserted his strength and managed to pin her half way up the steps of the sunken tub.

"Do you yield?" he demanded with mock ferocity, his weight crushing her. She struggled still. "I promise, I treat my prisoners with the utmost consideration," he asserted, very unconvincingly for a Death Eater. He moved a hand in to take advantage of a ticklish spot he had just now discovered under her short ribs and she exploded in helpless laughter, her grip on him weakening. "I'd much rather do other things to you," he growled into her ear, and when he finally relaxed his torture, he felt her go limp.

She wiped her eyes and looked up at him, the playfulness gone from her glance. "What other things?" she asked huskily, lowering her lids. "How's this for a beginning?" He moved her further up the steps until her hips were out of the water and she shivered on the cold marble surrounding the pool. Before she could protest, he had slipped half way back under and pushed his head between her legs. As he pulled her forwards for better access, she realized with shivering anticipation what he had planned and lay backwards, supporting herself on her elbows, watching him intently. The only other time his mouth had been on her, his skill had been phenomenal. He now rubbed the smooth skin of his chin over her mound, humming into her flesh, before his hands pulled her even further apart and he began kissing and licking her in earnest.

She was still sensitive from their earlier encounter in his study, so it did not take long for her to feel the effects of his attentions. Her thighs rested over his shoulders, the soft skin on their insides feeling the cool caress of his wet hair as he moved, and the heat of his mouth and breath at her core contrasted deliciously with the cold stone beneath and the air surrounding her. She surrendered to the sensations he managed to evoke and told him of her pleasure in moans and gasps. This time, however, he did not persevere until he had brought her off. She opened her eyes as she heard water splash and saw him shift his position. "Will you face me, this time," he asked, no irony in his voice. She blinked, coming out of her haze of heated anticipation. "Yes, Lucius," she said.

With that he rose from the water, letting her legs slide down his torso until she was centered before his cock, and then leaned in to her. On this occasion he took his time, focusing on her as he teased her entrance with his tip, until he felt her impatiently lift her hips. He pulled back, pursing his lips. "So eager, my dear Eleanor. What ever happened to patience?" She tried to reach his hips with her hands. "Me patient? You must have me confused with someone else." He looked down at her intently. "I doubt that," he purred. She frowned, wriggled, still intent on making contact, and he smiled at her persistence. "Then again, who could turn down such determination?" He moved to her again, and presently she felt him slowly, so agonizingly slowly slide into her.

He watched her face, the way her lips parted over her teeth, her brows furrowed and her lids slipped lower over her eyes, as she felt him. Her responsiveness to him was amazing. Sometimes he thought he was playing an exotic instrument, tuned to his every touch and mood. Then as her heated flesh surrounded him analogies became supremely irrelevant, and all that existed in this candle-lit space of water and stone were their bodies, moving against each other. He had kept her legs over his shoulders, so their position now forced her wide open to him, the rest of her body compressed by the forward tilt of his chest. She gasped as she felt the depth of his penetration. She could imagine the tip of his erection bruising her cervix and the mix of pressure and pain set her every nerve on edge.

His hands reached down to hold her against him and she grasped his upper arms for leverage as he began to move in and out of her. Every push tore a sharp breath and a moan from her. It was almost too much, he got so far into her this way, but she would not have him stop or relent in the least, and as she eased into his rhythm she sensed how the initial discomfort gave way to a slow pressure that built inside her. This differed from the sharp, localized tension her own hands or his mouth were able to build in her. It seemed to come from a vastly broader, deeper place, rising not like a wave, but like a groundswell. She whimpered, digging her nails into his arms, but they were both past caring now, his face a mask of concentrated agony as they both sped towards their peak. "Lucius!" she gasped, and then was sure afterwards that she had lost both hearing and vision as her climax crashed around her. All she saw and heard in a haze of roaring red was her own blood, pounding through her. Her body contracted as if her lover had put some kind of orgasmic _cruciatus_ on her.

Cool wet lips on her forehead woke her out of the stupor of her release. Lucius was standing before her, waist-deep in the water. He had pulled her down with him, holding her upright. "Eleanor," he called her softly. "Hmmm," she mumbled, raising her hands to his face. "You are truly a wizard." He shot her a smug smile. "Of course. After all, I promised you the utmost consideration," he said. She leaned against him when exactly at the same moment her stomach gave an insistent growl. "Sorry, I'm famished," she confessed and heard a dry chuckle. "There I believe myself to be an extraordinary lover when in reality you are faint with hunger, not my prowess. Well, we can't have you starve in my arms. How about a late-night meal in the study?" She looked up at him. "That would be perfect. You should be very hungry yourself by now, or did Lepidus feed you?"

Lucius shivered at the memory, despite the warmth of the water. "Yes, there was food and water as he wanted to keep me alive, but I'd rather not remember the taste of it." They both took a few minutes to wash and then as they climbed out of the basin Lucius picked up some towels. Eleanor looked around and shook her head. "We've drowned the place," she laughed.

She summoned her wand. "Exsiccatio!" she commanded and watched the puddles of water that surrounded the tub from their previous water-play evaporate. Lucius remembered his skrying adventure when she had splashed her bathroom at Hogwarts while pleasuring herself and smiled. She must have had occasions to use that spell to good advantage.

After they had dried each other Lucius discarded the towels on the floor, and they stepped back into his bedroom, where the blond wizard clapped his hands. Eleanor gave a yelp of dismay and grabbed a dressing gown to hide herself, as a house elf appeared before them right away. Lucius turned to her and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?" She pulled the cloth up to her chin. "We are both stark naked and there is now a house elf in the room, that's what's wrong." Her lover shrugged his shoulders, swiveling his hips towards her and looking completely and proudly at ease in his nakedness. "So, it's just a house elf." The elf had modestly averted his gaze. 'Is it a he-elf or a she-elf?' she thought, unconvinced by the wizard's arrogant disregard. Lucius turned away from her and faced his servant. "You! Clean up the bathroom and then arrange for dinner for two in my study. Hurry!" The elf bowed low. "Yes, master," he whispered and disappeared through the bathroom door.

Eleanor lowered the bathrobe. "Okay, that was a serious difference in modesty levels just then," she complained. Lucius shook his head and stepped towards her. "Look, it's Nibbs, a house elf. I fail to see the significance. It's not like I called in another wizard or witch," he explained again. "Have you never been naked around your familiar?" She faced him. "Yes, but that's an animal, not part of the household staff."

"Very well, if it offends your sensibilities…" He walked over to a large wardrobe and pulled out a dressing gown cut from rich, moss green silk, which he invitingly held open for her. She stepped up to him and had him help her into the cool sensuous fabric. The gown fit her perfectly as she belted the broad silk sash in front.

Before she could thank him, the house elf had actually reappeared, and Lucius made a point of remaining undressed as he conferred with his servant about dinner. Only when Nibbs had scurried off on his errant, did he pick up the black robe Eleanor had used to cover herself with before and slipped into it. A few minutes later the elf poked his head in through the study door and invited them in for dinner. The place had been tidied and their discarded clothes put away. The skrying bowl was also nowhere to be seen.

A side table with two chairs now held a large silver tray laden with dishes, plates, glasses and bottles. Eleanor surveyed the feast laid out before her and smiled at Nibbs. "Thanks," she said, and heard the elf give a surprised squeak while his eyes grew to the size of small saucers. Lucius pulled out a chair for her and clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You are spoiling my staff, my dear," he admonished her. "Displays of modesty, now gratitude – honestly…" He put a playful note into his voice, but she felt that it hid some actual annoyance.

As he seated himself and Nibbs left with a deep bow and a curious glance at her, she decided to close the topic. "Look Lucius, it's none of my business how you treat your house-elves, and I would never presume to interfere. But I consider it a point of honor as a Sartorius to extent courtesy to all magical beings according to their understanding. I will not go out of my way to act churlishly towards your servants, just to please you." He gave her a sharp glance out of grey eyes, then inclined his head to show her he understood and hopefully accepted her position.

The next few minutes were passed in exploring their sumptuous dinner. Nibbs and the kitchen staff had gone all out, miraculously providing freshly baked bread, crackers, different pates and spreads, cold meats and smoked fish, an iced dish with freshly shucked oysters and various cheeses. The bottles held blood-red and pale golden wine, some ruby port, and she even picked up a carafe containing deep amber Scotch. Lucius filled their wine glasses and held his up for a toast. "To daring rescues," he proposed and got no argument from her as she touched her glass to his with a resounding ring.

After a deep appreciative sip she watched her opposite reach for the oyster dish and pick up a shell in his long fingers. However, instead of moving it to his own plate he held it out to her. She tried to take it from him, but he shook his head. "Indulge me, please, my dear," he smiled. So she bent closer and opened her mouth for him as he tilted the shell and slid the cool, salty delicacy between her lips. She swallowed. The oyster was delicious. Not to be outdone, she next selected a sliver of smoked salmon, rolled it around a sprig of dill and fed it to him. He accepted as graciously as she had.

Over the next half hour they ate in companionable near-silence, selecting small morsels for each other on occasion. Watching Lucius' perfect and polished table manners made her realize how relaxed he must feel around her to break protocol by feeding her with his fingers from time to time and accepting the same from her. Finally, over a small piece of Stilton cheese and a last sip of port, she sighed contentedly. He tilted his head and filled two tumblers with a finger's breadth of the Scotch. "Ready for a nightcap?" he asked and pushed one of the glasses towards her. She smiled. "Well, the evening sure didn't look like it was going to shape up to this, but it turned out absolutely perfect, after all. I cannot think of wanting anything else. You are a most gracious host."

Lucius lifted his drink to hers. "Well, be assured I do not treat all my guests like this. But as far as your utter lack of wants is concerned, let's hope that has changed by morning," he suggested. "I would hope to be able to do much more for you…" He trailed off with a brief lift of his eyebrows to let his meaning sink in. She actually found herself blushing a little, as scenes from their earlier exploits in his study and in the bath came back to her. "Nothing that a little sleep can't cure," she promised him. They finished their meal, and while Nibbs cleaned up they finally returned to Lucius' bedroom in the early hours of the morning.

When he had extinguished the candles and she felt his naked body curve around hers under the sheets, as matter-of-factly, as if they had shared his bed forever, she marveled at the pure sense of joy she felt at having him back. She remembered her earlier feelings of dread and loss as she had seen him bound and dying, unsure whether she would ever be able to find him. To now hear his calm and even breath and feel the heaviness of his arm across her side as he held her to him was bliss. She did not know what the next day would bring. She was perfectly aware of the fact that their relationship would never progress to anything beyond this point, and that it would be impossible to ever see eye-to-eye with him as far as Voldemort, muggles or house-elves were concerned. But if tonight was as good as it got, she had no complaints.


	19. Questions and Answers

**Questions and Answers**

_"You can tell whether a man is clever by his answers. You can tell whether a man is wise by his questions." (Naquib Mahfouz)_

When she arrived back at her room at Hogwarts on Sunday night, exhausted but beyond satisfied, she found Murry the house elf sitting cross-legged on her bed stroking Isis. She lifted an eyebrow and tried to smooth down her hair. Murry jumped up and hopped off the bed. "The headmaster wishes to see you. Murry has been waiting for three hours already."

Eleanor cursed softly. That meant that Dumbledore had also waited for her for three hours, and she hadn't even bothered to tidy herself up much once she had convinced Lucius it was finally time to say goodbye. "Uh, be there in a jiffy," she promised, dashed over to her desk to remove the portkey bracelet and pulled her dress-collar up over a particularly colorful bruise on the side of her throat. A quick flick of her wand rearranged her tousled hair. She knew that few things got past the headmaster anyway, so she might just as well face the music. He probably already knew where she had spent most of the weekend.

A few minutes later she ascended the spiral staircase to his office and entered the dim, oval room. Fawkes, the phoenix regarded her gravely from his perch and Dumbledore, who was seated at his desk, looked up from the documents he was studying and nodded as she approached him. "Eleanor, I am glad to see you back. We were beginning to worry about you." She cleared her throat. "I was, ummm, fine. I spent the weekend with a friend."

The headmaster gave her a sharp glance over his half-moon glasses. "I suppose so," he said slowly. "Please, have a seat. Chocolate frog?" She stared at him. "What!?" He pushed a glass container towards her filled with jumping, crawling confections. She shook her head. "Oh, I'm – I'm fine. Not hungry." Dumbledore lifted the lid, expertly caught a frog and dispatched it with relish. "Present from Argus Filch," he said, chewing happily. "He feels very bad over what happened."

"Anyway, my contacts at the Ministry tell me they have apprehended George Lepidus. Apparently they got an anonymous tip-off by mail, similar to the one that alerted them to the raid on Mr. and Mrs. Oswald. They also located the homunculus." Eleanor took a deep breath. "That's good news," she said neutrally.

The old wizard hunted another frog. "Come, now," he chided her. "I know that the anonymous tip came from you," he said. "I'm not going to tell the aurors, if you don't want me to, but I would like to know what happened." She composed herself, realizing that nothing but the truth would do now. Slowly and somewhat reluctantly she told her story. Dumbledore shook his head when she was done. "So Lucius Malfoy came through for you," he finally commented. "Frankly, I am surprised. If you had asked me to guess on the outcome of the standoff over the homunculus, I would have bet on him going for the means to resurrect Voldemort."

"Well, he didn't," she answered, somewhat defiantly. "Even if they are black wizards, the Malfoys have a sense of honor." Dumbledore regarded her. "So he did not do it because there was a change of heart." She felt anger now. "If you mean, did he refrain out of respect and regard for me, then perhaps – yes. If you mean did I 'turn' him, then – no. He will be who he is, and I have no ambition to change that." Deliberately she relaxed her muscles and sat back in her chair. Dumbledore nodded. "I understand." The silence between them stretched, then the headmaster leaned forward. "Well, I have two items of news for you. First of all, the homunculus is dead. The aurors killed it painlessly and quickly in accordance with the provisions of the 1911 act. Second, Lepidus faces trial next week on accusations that will land him in Azkaban for the rest of his natural life. All of this would not have been possible without your help. Is there anything we can do for you?"

She didn't need long to consider. "Keep Lucius Malfoy out of this. It seems your contacts in the Ministry are powerful and numerous. Lepidus may implicate him, but he has been more or less blameless in this affair." Dumbledore nodded. "I can do that. Anything for yourself?" She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm happy to be back where I belong in the wizarding world and thankful to you and Minerva for getting me there."

The old wizard rooted in a drawer of his desk and pushed a piece of parchment towards her. She had no problem recognizing the Old Icelandic runes. Most of her old school notices had been written in them. After a minute of reading she looked up at her boss. "Durmstrang is looking for a Defense against the Dark Arts Teacher! Halfway through term? That must have been bad luck for the old one," she exclaimed. She saw a smile on the headmaster's face. "Interested?" he asked. She felt a shiver of unanticipated excitement run through her. Her old school, and one of the most dangerous and most coveted positions any wizarding teacher could hold… "I'd love to go," she laughed. "But it's not even Yule, and you need me for muggle studies…"

Dumbledore smiled. "I think Durmstrang needs you more. The way things are going, young witches and wizards everywhere will need to know all the defense they can get. Putting a _petrificus_ spell on Voldemort's former bodyguard and chief Death Eater should qualify you. I can teach muggle studies for the rest of the term. Heck, I'd enjoy getting out of this office once in a while. And I hear that George and Frank Weasly are two of your star pupils." "Something like that," she grinned. "So should I tell them that you accept?" Dumbledore asked.

Eleanor took a minute to collect herself. She had never been more alive then when she had been at Durmstrang – well, excepting a few precious hours with a certain blond wizard. Returning as a teacher, and for a subject she loved, would be the ultimate experience. She licked her lips. "Please let them know that I would be honored and delighted to return and teach. And please don't take this as a decision against Hogwarts."

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Don't worry. If I had to ask the sorting hat, I think he would have had a hard time to really put you in any house here. You have the brains of a Ravenclaw, but no their principles, the bravery of Gryffindor, but not their uncompromising loyalty to the white arts, the power and inventiveness of Slytheryn, but not their arrogance and self-serving interest, and the readiness of Hufflepuff to accept anyone, but not their innocence. I believe you will be happier at Durmstrang. They would be expecting you during the Yule vacations."

Eleanor smiled, taking no offense at Dumbledore's frank assessment of her. "I'll be ready," she said. She had already known that her continued involvement with Lucius Malfoy had made her position at the school untenable for her, and this was a perfect solution. Also, she thought with a stab of amusement, Durmstrang had none of Hogwart's anti-apparition rules, so visits from a certain blond wizard were no longer impossible.

* * *

The next few days passed in a flurry of activities, as Eleanor had to meet her Hogwarts teaching schedule, submit to an unofficial debriefing regarding the homunculus affair with the chief auror and several Unmentionables at the Ministry, and organize her impending departure to Durmstrang. While Dumbledore's recommendation had propelled her up the list of hopeful candidates, she still needed to interview with the headmaster and staff.

Fortunately no one put up any objections to her application, and she was glad to hear that she would be reassigned to the House of Fire, her old house during her days as a wizarding student. Durmstrang's four houses were named for the four elements, not for any founding wizards and witches, as the school was so much older than even Hogwarts. And so the students and teachers were known in turn as the Salamanders, the Undines, the Sylphs and the Gnomes.

As the week wore on she realized she really needed to write to Lucius. Apart from the news she had for him about her new teaching assignment and the aurors' actions with regard to the homunculus and a certain ex chief Death Eater, she wanted to ask him whether Dumbledore and the Ministry had upheld their part of the bargain and had refrained from bothering him.

The _Daily Prophet_ had been remarkably quiet about the whole development. Apart from a short notice regarding the apprehension of George Lepidus on charges of putting an unforgivable curse on Argus Filch and having killed a male muggle in his thirties, the paper maintained stony silence. However, as she finally found a free moment on Thursday night to sit down at her desk, she had barely put pen to parchment, when a black shadow beat at the panes of her study window.

As she opened it, she found a familiar eagle owl sitting on the sill, eying her arrogantly out of half-closed eyes. She smiled at the sight and quickly put on her owling glove to allow the bird inside. Lucius' mail looked very official this time. A large heavy black envelope bore the Malfoy crest in silver and her address written in the same ink in a style she did not recognize. It was much more filigreed and curly than Lucius' usual bold script, laden with flourishes and ornamentation. Inside she found a simple piece of premium vellum and a folded billet made from heavy cream-colored card stock.

Recognizing Lucius' writing on the parchment she first turned to the card. Its front was expensively stamped with a gilt emblem of a crossed wand and bone and bore the embossed inscription: '_St. Mungo's_ Annual Halloween Charity Ball'. As she opened it she read that she was cordially invited to a ball and buffet on the 31st of October, to be held at the hospital, starting at 7 PM and cumulating in a large magical indoors fireworks display at midnight. Costume for invited guests was obligatory. On the back of the card, magical scrolling writing showed all of the organizers and patrons who had been involved in planning and sponsoring the event. The list was led by the name of Narcissa Malfoy.

She lowered the card and shook her head. So she now held in her hands an official invitation to her lover's wife's pet event. It didn't get much more bizarre than that. A few days ago the _Daily Prophet_ had reported that each of these beauties came at the steep expense of 120 galleons, proceeds of the sale to go to the refurbishment of several wards at the hospital. She next picked up Lucius' note.

"Dear Eleanor,

Fallout from our adventures last Friday has kept me busier these past few days than I would have wished to be. So I hope you will forgive me for not writing to you before. I am quite surprised that the Ministry has not contacted me in any way and hope the same has been the case for you. Still I fully expect we are both being watched attentively by all sides, and so will keep this letter short.

As you may have surmised from the enclosed invitation, my wife has been involved in the organization of a rather spectacular annual event, the Charity Ball at _St. Mungo's_. For her efforts, the Malfoys get a few invitations every year, to use as they see fit. So I was wondering if you would do me the honor to attend.

If you feel you need to object, due to the fact that Narcissa will be present, please don't. While I will be required to make an entrance with her, we have always kept out amusements during the rest of the evening strictly separated. If you are still not convinced, I would beg you to make your presence my birthday present for this year.

Always yours, Lucius."

She lowered the parchment and had to admire his skills of manipulation. He had already thought to anticipate and refute her very valid reservations, and had decided to play the birthday card on top. The man really didn't expect to ever be turned down for anything in his life. Of course she had already found out that Lucius was born on a Halloween evening, and while it had amused her at first, Lepidus revelation about the circumstances of his birth put a sinister slant on the date.

Halloween was the time when the realms of the living and the dead touched, when transitions and transformations of all kinds were possible. There could have been no better day for an exchange between the life-force of a parent and their child. Lucius' birthday was integral to the circumstances of his very existence. She glanced at the letter again. When she read the last sentence a second time, she suddenly felt it laden with unspoken emotion.

How would he feel on his first birthday after discovering the fact that his birth had literally cost his mother her life? Lepidus had made it clear that the death had not been an accident of delivery, which, though tragic, should not make a child feel guilty. Instead it had been deliberately planned, and her life had passed on to her son by design. How would a child feel about that?

"I beg you…" she murmured. She was certain that the expression was not part of Lucius' standard vocabulary. Her mind was made up a few seconds later. She would go, and she would meet him. She'd rather tell him about the events of the past few days in person anyway, especially if he was right, and both the remaining Death Eaters and the aurors were paying more than the usual attention to them.

She turned back to her own letter and jotted down a quick reply, assuring him she'd attend the ball and letting him know she'd be fashionably late to allow him time to fulfill his representative duties at Narcissa's side. She still had a few days to get organized and her next concern was the costume, when she remembered the clothes trunk she had seen at _Gringotts_ that contained some of her grandmother's rather extravagant wardrobe. She decided that a visit to London was in order as soon as she could make time for it.

* * *

Halloween that year was a cold, rainy and blustery day. Classes tended to be interrupted at unexpected moments by all manner of pranks and magical mischief, and everyone was happily anticipating the big feast in the great hall in the evening. Eleanor Sartorius had made her excuses as soon as she had finished teaching for the day and set out for London. Her first stop-over was her old childhood home where she had readied her costume several days earlier.

She shivered in the unheated entrance-hall until a warming spell took care of the worst of the clammy cold that had crept into the uninhabited house. Then she took a little time to brew a strong pot of tea. Outside it was already dark when she finally pulled up a chair in her study. She opened the drawer of her desk and took out a small box. Unsheathing her wand she spent several minutes enchanting the object in it, before closing and wrapping the box. Next she walked upstairs into her bedroom where one of her grandmother's magical robes lay spread out on her bed. She regarded it and chewed her lip.

The piece would be an absolute scene-stealer. Again she argued back and forth in her mind about how much attention she wanted to call to herself and to Lucius, but as before when she had looked first on the unique combination of the arts of magic and of sewing in her vault at the bank, her proud Sartorius spirit won out. She was back, she was officially a witch again, one of the enemies of her house rotted in a dank cell at Azkaban, she would be the next Defense against the Dark Arts teacher at Durmstrang, and she had successfully closed one of the darker chapters in her grandfather's life. She deserved to celebrate, to make a public statement and be recognized. Her mind made up she stripped, shivering in the cold and slid into her grandmother's gown. She already knew that it fitted her perfectly, as did the gloves, mask and sandals that came with it.

It took her another quarter of an hour and several spells in the bathroom to arrange her hair to her liking and apply make-up and the mask that complemented her dress. Finally she took a last long look at herself in the floor-length mirror next to the sink and smiled at her reflection, satisfied with the result of her efforts. She walked back to her study and checked the time. Nine o'clock, hopefully Lucius would now be able to disentangle himself from his representative duties.

She picked up the wrapped box and her invitation, unsheathed her wand and murmured an apparition spell. Moments later her surroundings blurred around her and she found herself in a small anteroom, that the hospital had obviously set aside for apparating guests. No one wanted visitors to just pop up randomly among the crowd. As she left the room, an elderly wizard dressed in Celtic druid robes stopped her to collect her invitation and after taking a rather curious look at her attire ushered her into the main hall.


	20. St Mungo's

**St Mungo's**

_"Middle age is having a choice between two temptations and choosing the one that'll get you home earlier." (Dan Bennett)_

She was met by a dazzling array of decorations and of colorfully and fantastically costumed witches and wizards. The vaulted main hall of the hospital was lit by a multitude of suspended candles and small, pearl-white glowing ghosts that swirled and dove above and beneath the flames. Reflections from the illuminations sparkled on sequins and silk, reflected off gilt masks and glowed on rich velvets and brocades. Whoever could afford a ticket to _St. Mungo's_ ball could also afford the best and most sophisticated in attire. Most people had elected to remain true to the human form, but she also saw a few other magical creatures, among them several women who had made attempts at appearing as Veela, a few centaurs, a harpy, and even a rather startling dragon.

A small orchestra played on an elevated platform above the crowd, and while the tunes and instrumentation would have appeared rather strange and somewhat archaic to muggle ears, she found the music quite compelling, as obviously did many of the other guests. The area in the center of the hall was filled with dancing couples, which were performing what seemed to be a kind of quadrille. To the sides of the dance floor people chatted in pairs and small groups or sat around candle-lit tables eating and drinking. Eleanor took in the atmosphere and smiled at the sights and sounds. She should have gone back to being a witch ages ago!

* * *

Lucius Malfoy looked over the shoulder of the wizard who was talking to him, scanning the hall. Francis Warburton from the International Magical Trading Standards Body did not notice that his audience's attention was barely on the topic of the conversation as he kept droning on about the latest negotiations between the Chinese trade delegation and himself regarding the import ban on enchanted acupuncture equipment.

He wore fake vampire fangs over his front teeth, which made him speak with a pronounced lisp that Lucius found particularly annoying. "…And af you know, when we ftill allowed free acceff in the eighties, how many healerf did irreparable damage to their patientf by unlicenfed and untrained ufe of thofe needlef. It waf dreadful! Why, I myfelf ftill remember poor Marjorie Nefbitt from the floo network monitoring team looking like a pincuffion for 3 monthf, until they found out how to fafely remove all the needlef. Without adequate training and licenfing it is juft unconfcionable to let people buy thefe thingf…"

Lucius was about ready to put a _silencio_ charm or worse on the lanky bespectacled Ministry official who had now dared to lay his hand on his forearm to emphasize a point. Instead he gritted his teeth. "Yes, Francis, I completely agree," he said coldly, hoping the man would finally shut up or find another victim for his inane chatter. Gods! He had managed to get away from Narcissa after the obligatory speeches had been made and the buffet had been declared open. He could see her, toy-boy in tow, standing among a cluster of socialite witches that had crowded around Hippocrates Smethwyck, the healer-in-charge at the ward for creature-induced injuries. The wizard must have made a humorous remark, because all the women exploded in hysterical, exaggerated laughter. Warburton was still talking and lisping.

Suddenly Lucius felt another touch. Someone had lightly tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, Francis," he said automatically to the Ministry official, cutting him off, and turned, only to freeze in shock. Eleanor Sartorius stood before him – enveloped in living fire. Tongues of orange flame billowed around her legs and torso, flared up her arms like gloves, even surrounded her deep green eyes and temples like a mask. Only her shoulders, her neck and the lower part of her face seemed to be unaffected.

He blanched, remembering her burning, screaming in agony under Lepidus spell in the dungeon. But now she was smiling at him, and as he blinked in surprise, he realized that she was actually wearing a low-cut, sleeveless, floor-long dress, long cocktail gloves and a small horned silk mask covering her eyes. The fabric was enchanted to ripple, glow and move like actual flames. To complete her costume she had piled her coppery hair atop her head with only a few stray strands framing her face. The light golden skin of her exposed neck and shoulders contrasted well with the riot of fire hues surrounding her. She really looked quite stunning, but his stomach still felt as if it had been turned to ice water.

While he was looking at her Eleanor's smile slowly turned to concern. "Lucius, are you all right," she asked him. It was hard to read his expression as he was wearing a mask covering is eyes and forehead, but he seemed to have turned very pale. He opened his lips to respond when the skinny tall wizard he had been talking to chimed in. "Charmed to make your acquaintance," he droned, proffering a hand and neatly stepping around Lucius Malfoy. "Francif Warburton, International Magical Trading Ftandardf Body." She found herself rather taken by surprise as she tried not to smirk at what was obviously a costume-induced speech defect and introduced herself to a Ministry official dressed like a nosferatu.

Fortunately Lucius would not be sidelined long. As he moved up to her and possessively laid a hand on her arm, she could see by the tension in the corners of his mouth, that his patience with Francis Warburton was wearing dangerously thin. "Francis, if you will excuse us," he said curtly. "I have been waiting for Miss Sartorius and have a few things to discuss with her." Warburton closed his mouth mid-sentence, forgetting the fangs on his incisors, which now comically stuck out over his lower lip. He bowed stiffly and walked off in an apparent huff.

Eleanor had time to survey the blond wizard standing next to her as he watched the Ministry official cast a last wounded glance behind him and then join another group of masked victims. Lucius was dressed in black velvet, no surprise there, she thought. However, his robes had subtle silver stitching applied to them that reminded her of some nightmarish insect carapace. There was something spidery and chitinous about him, and when she took a closer look at the black and silver mask covering the upper half of his face she saw that it showed the design of a scorpion. Of course, she thought, the light homage to his astrological sign on his birthday was very appropriate.

Her musings were interrupted as Lucius turned to her and she saw the glimmer of his pale eyes behind the glossy black depths of his mask. The strange expression of shock and fierceness that she had noticed earlier had not quite left his face and his right hand still encircled her arm with an almost painful intensity. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

She would have taken a surprised step back, if his grip had allowed it. As it was she looked up at him. "What?" The orchestra struck up another tune, a lively jig this time, and he had to bend to her ear to make himself heard. "Your dress! Did you want to remind me on purpose?" She craned her neck to speak into his ear. "Remind you of what?" Now his left had grasped her other arm and he shook her slightly as he answered her. "Lepidus, the burning curse. By Azrael! Why?"

Suddenly his odd reaction made sense to her and she felt a stab of remorse at her thoughtlessness. She looked up at him. "Lucius, the dress belonged to my grandmother. Falco enchanted it for her for a ball many years ago. It has nothing to do with Lepidus. How would I even know what I looked like when he cursed me?"

Her lover let go of her right arm and passed a hand through his hair. "Look, I did not think," she added. "The last thing I would want to remind you of tonight is of that." He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "I am sorry," he finally said. "I do not relish celebrating my birthday much this year. Knowing that my mother…" he broke off, closing his eyes behind his mask. She laid a hand on his chest.

For a moment he seemed lost in thought, then she felt a sudden resolve in him as he straightened. When he looked at her again she saw his lips twitch briefly and it seemed that another mask slipped over his face. His tone was light and taunting as he resumed speaking. "So you finally make your grand entrance, after abandoning me to two of the most vexing hours of pomposity and small talk. What took you so long? You better think of a way to make it up to me!" She understood and smiled. Angst was not a natural state of existence for Lucius Malfoy, and if he needed irony and innuendo to get over it, she would not stand in his way.

She pursed her lips and decided to reply with a challenge. "Yes, and you look very stunning yourself, Mr. Malfoy. Thanks for the compliment." It was quite a shame that the scorpion mask had to hide the quick rise of his eyebrows. He bit his lip. "Gorgeous costume, Miss Sartorius, actually heart-stopping," he drawled. "May I ask you to dance?" He curved his mouth at the brief expression of panic that crossed her face. It had been years since she had danced, but before she could make any excuses he had turned her and an imperious hand at the small of her back pushed her inexorably towards the moving couples on the dance floor.

Before she could warn him that his toes were now in mortal danger, his arms encircled her and she found herself following his lead as he expertly guided her through the figures and paces of the dance. The first minute or so felt awkward as she tried her best to avoid stepping on his feet, but then part of her seemed to remember and she settled into the quick swirling motions of the jig.

Somehow it did not surprise her to find him an excellent dancer. He moved with the same self-assured grace that he displayed in everything else, and she enjoyed abandoning herself to his guidance. They stayed on for the next two pieces, which were of an equally demanding pace as the jig, and when he bowed to her at the end of the third dance she found herself quite flushed and out of breath.

A cool voice behind her caused her to turn, but not before she had seen her lover's face tighten in response. "Ah, darling, fancy seeing you on the dance floor. How unusual for you. Why don't you introduce me to your charming partner?" She found herself next to a slender woman of about her own age dressed in gorgeous, jewel laden Spanish court attire of the 16th century. The tightly laced silver-encrusted bodice of her dress showed off her slim figure to best advantage and the high ruffled lace collar emphasized her long graceful neck. She was accompanied by a handsome dark-haired young wizard whose costume as a courtier matched hers in colors, materials and period. Despite her attempts at a polite and somewhat frigid smile she conveyed the impression that she was faintly disgusted with her surroundings.

Eleanor heard Lucius sigh to himself as he stepped up to her and handled the introductions in a bored drawl that clearly betrayed his annoyance. "This is Professor Eleanor Sartorius of Hogwarts. Eleanor, my wife Narcissa and Hubertus Yarrow, tutor to our son Draco." Narcissa held out a gloved hand with the chilly reluctance of someone who finds herself compelled to have to touch something slightly nauseating. "How do you do, professor? Such a delight to have you here at the ball." Eleanor decided to have some fun while playing along with the situation and eagerly grasped and shook the proffered hand. "Mrs. Malfoy! It is such a pleasure to be here. You are truly gifted to be able to pull such a magnificent event together. Absolutely marvelous! I am so glad to be able to thank you and compliment you in person."

Narcissa now looked decidedly annoyed. It was plainly obvious that she knew about the nature of Eleanor's involvement with her husband, just as Lucius was well aware of the place that Mr. Yarrow had in the affections of his wife. Of course Yarrow managed to look appropriately uncomfortable in the presence of Mr. Malfoy while Eleanor had the audacity to seem enthusiastically oblivious to the awkwardness of the situation. It clearly put Mrs. Malfoy out. She tried to look down her nose at her rival, which did not appear quite convincing, as she was slightly shorter. "So who did your costume? Madame Malkin? It's very – interesting."

Eleanor now positively glowed with delight. "You like it? I am so thrilled," she gushed. "Actually it is an old family heirloom. My grandfather Falco Sartorius enchanted it for my grandmother." She leaned in as if imparting a well-guarded secret. "Family tradition has it, that it was the skill that my grandfather displayed in enchanting this very dress, that finally made her decide to accept his proposal of handfasting. It's so romantic, don't you think?"

Mrs. Malfoy tried her best not to recoil, but Eleanor was not quite finished. She shot her a perfect, dazzling smile. "Oh, I knew you'd understand," she sighed. "I mean, look at your own beautiful, splendid costumes." Her smile now encompassed Mr. Yarrow, who shifted in near-panic. "A perfect match. I think that is so – cute…"

She trailed off and stepped back, her demented grin still in place, watching in satisfaction as Narcissa Malfoy turned a very interesting shade of angry crimson and her companion looked as if he were seriously contemplating a disapparition spell. For a few charged moments everyone remained frozen into a tableau of supreme awkwardness, then Narcissa Malfoy gathered her skirts and tossed her head. "Professor, excuse us, we must be going. Mr. Yarrow…" Quickly the younger wizard scrambled to the side of his mistress and offered his arm.

As the couple turned Narcissa decided to launch one last barb. "Goodnight darling," she called to Lucius over her shoulder. "I am surprised you did not treat yourself to something younger on your birthday. It seems to be so out of keeping with your usual tastes. You must be finally getting old." Eleanor watched them depart and finally shook with silent laughter until she thought she heard an angry growl from her companion.

A quick glance at Lucius showed that he had not found the encounter in the least amusing. His mouth was compressed in a thin line of fury and his complexion closely matched that of his wife. He turned to her and for a moment she felt a genuine stab of fear at the thought that he might blame her for overstepping her boundaries until he started to speak.

"This is an outrage! How dare she confront me and make a scene, her pathetic little lover in tow? This goes against every agreement we have! And to suggest that a Sartorius would consider buying her robes at an establishment like _Mrs. Malkin's_. She has never done anything like this before!" Eleanor watched him as he stared at the receding back of his wife and wisely refrained from commenting that the remark regarding her dress had been positively polite in comparison to Narcissa's final cheap parting shot at him.

She touched his hand to get his attention leaning in to him with an air of conspiracy. "Actually I am flattered, Lucius. From a woman's perspective I would think that she must have considered all of your previous conquests complete lightweights, not worth her care. It seems I have her rattled, and she has decided that you have finally grown up. I really don't think she likes it."

The blond wizard shook his head. "I need a glass of wine and I need to get out of here before I do something regrettable." She gave him a smirk. "Better something regrettable, than something unforgivable." He took her arm, moving away from the dance floor and over to one of the tables. "In this case, that would be the same thing," he growled, realizing her reference to the three curses.

He picked up two large goblets of mulled wine, handed one to her and pulled her into a dark corner of the room. A second later he had pulled his wand from his cane, murmured an incantation and they were standing in a dimly lit and deserted corridor next to an arched window. Gold letters sprawled lazily on a black sign above them and proclaimed "Fourth Floor: Spell Damage."

Without comment Lucius put the mugs of wine onto the windowsill, and a moment later Eleanor found herself wrapped in his arms with his mouth on her lips. The force of his kiss betrayed the full extent of his anger and tension, and she had to remember to breathe as her ribs suffered under the intensity of his crushing embrace.

Finally he released her somewhat, keeping one hand on her back, and removed the mask from his face. She looked up into his storm-grey eyes and lifted her own mask. In the dusk of the corridor her dress cast a soft flickering radiance of fire on his features and reflected off the silver thread of his costume. She smiled. "I think we have been off to a better start on previous occasions." He gave a grim nod. "But that's not altogether bad," she continued. "After all, things can now only improve…"

He moved in for another kiss, less fierce this time, and more exploratory. She felt a thrill of anticipation as his fingers trailed over the bare skin of her neck and shoulders and she surrendered herself to the excitement of enjoying his attentions in the potentially compromising setting of a hospital corridor. The night shift of doctors and nurses would surely be working, and there was always the possibility of a sudden emergency. She bunched her hands in the luxurious richness of his velvet robes, feeling the heat from his body through the sensuous fabric.

Soon she found herself getting quite aroused and she began to entertain the thought that they might very well throw caution to the wind, when suddenly she realized that someone had already beaten them to it. A muffled groan further down the hall made her jump. Lucius broke his kiss and looked over his shoulder.

The noise was repeated, echoed by a lighter moan of passion that obviously belonged to a woman, and she could now identify the origin of the sounds. Further down the corridor a black curtain started to move with a very suggestive rhythm. Lucius shook his head. "I give up," he sighed. "I should have stayed in bed this morning and drunk myself into oblivion. Why don't you just hex me and call a mediwizard? At least that way we'll get a room."

She stroked him. "Let's get away from here. I would at least like to give you your birthday present first. And I have some news for you." He sighed and picked up the mulled wine. "I was under the impression I was already about to get my birthday present just then." She gave him a mock slap, but he was already on a new mission, leading her down the hall away from the lovers and opened the door to one of the patient's rooms. She leaned in to him. "Lucius, we can't just…" she whispered, but he pushed her into the darkened room and resolutely closed the door behind her. "Oh yes, we can," he announced in his normal voice. "Lumos!"

Lights flared up and she found herself in a small high room occupied by a bed, a small cupboard, table and two chairs. He put the goblets on the table as if he owned the place and pulled out a chair for her to sit. She stared at him in disbelief and pointed over to the bed that was clearly occupied by a patient. Lucius sat down opposite her. "Oh, don't mind him," he announced. "He's been lost to the world for something like 20 year now. That's old Mr. Mulciber. I visit him occasionally to check up on any improvements. He had the misfortune to earn the Dark Lord's displeasure one night. The Dark Lord tried a new spell on him that he had recently discovered in his studies of old Chaldean magical scrolls, just out of curiosity, to see what would happen. Old Mulciber keeled over with a look of exquisite horror on his face that hasn't changed since. It seems the spell cannot be reversed. Pity."

Eleanor stared at the blond wizard. While she had thought that she had come to terms with the fact that she had elected to become the mistress of a Death Eater, Lucius' occasional bouts of reckless callousness still managed to shock her. "He is the father of the boy who got sick…" "At the thought of forcing himself on Miss Lenting, yes," he finished the sentence for her. "Fortunately old Mulciber wasn't around to witness the disgrace of his son."

She finally found she had to object. "Lucius, I would have thought one could call the behavior of the others disgraceful. Young Mulciber…" "Showed unforgivable weakness," he interrupted her. "My disobedience earned me punishment, but at least it did not compromise my status. I had used a killing curse after all. Mulciber's career as a Death Eater was over after that, even before it had really started. Until his recent demise Lepidus usually commanded him to clean up the mess after we were done with a muggle or mudblood. Might as well be a house elf."

She leaned back. 'You know what and who he is,' she admonished herself. 'Don't go fainting every time he reminds you of it.' To order her thoughts she took a sip of the spiced hot wine and looked at the rigid form of an elderly wizard stretched out on the bed in the far corner of the room. 'Another pureblood family finished by Voldemort,' she thought. The cheerless setting was in keeping with the rather abysmal birthday Lucius seemed to be celebrating this year. The mood certainly fit.

Her hand slipped into a hidden pocket in her dress and she pulled out the small box she had brought and placed it on the table before him. She felt tired and deflated. "Happy birthday, Lucius," she said quietly. He got up and stood before her. "Let's do this right," he demanded. "You're supposed to kiss me and give me my present." His glace at her was speculative as she moved out of her chair and she sighed inwardly. 'He's just told you that weakness will not be tolerated,' she thought grimly as she braced herself to play along.

She picked up the gift and stepped into his arms, pulling his face down to hers for a deep and drawn out kiss. He responded, but she eventually broke the connection and held out her present. She had no intention to let things get out of hand in the presence of Mulciber senior, no matter how oblivious Voldemort's curse had rendered the old wizard.

Lucius took the box from her and removed the wrapping. He opened the lid and revealed a beautifully crafted signet ring of deep yellow gold. The midnight blue, pyrite-flecked lapis at its center bore the family crest of the Sartorius, lion and scorpion. The wizard placed the box and paper back on the table and moved closer to the light to inspect the ring. "It is beautiful, with a superbly cut gem," he declared with unfeigned admiration. Then he turned to her. "You have not done anything as sentimental and foolish as give me a family heirloom?"

She looked into his face and to her amazement read both annoyance and the shadow of a breathless expectation that perhaps she had. "I had it made a few weeks ago as an exact copy of Falco Sartorius' signet ring, which is in my possession. I think you will probably deem it indiscrete to wear the Sartorius crest openly and so will prize the ring less for its value as jewelry than for its magical properties. It's enchanted as a portkey."

Her lover looked from her to the ring and she saw a brief humorless twitch of his lips. "Indiscreet, I hope so," he declared. "After what happened tonight I have every intention of being indiscreet." He held out his hand and the ring to her. "Little finger, right next to my wedding band, you might as well do the honors," he commanded.

She raised an eyebrow at his proffered hand, then took the ring from him and gently slipped it on his finger, murmuring an incantation. It fit perfectly. He nodded, balled his hand into a fist and inspected her gift. His right hand now bore the heavy onyx and silver signet ring of the Malfoy family, his left a plain gold band and next to it the Sartorius crest, indigo and gold. She had to admit that the sight stirred her, but told herself that his motivation in wearing the ring had probably less to do with attachment to her than with revenge with regards to his wife.

Lucius looked from the ring to the slender flame-clad woman who stood before him, the gaze of her eyes unreadable. Even though he would have rather swallowed his own tongue than admit it openly, he decided he could have handled the acceptance of her gift with more grace. He had asked her to set the jewel on his finger, which was normally a handfasting ritual and would imply a serious connection between them. Then he had told her that he was wearing her gift purely to get back at Narcissa.

'Smooth, Lucius,' he chided himself in a rare instance of self-criticism. Well, at least he had kept true to form on this miserable day. In truth, her present had thrown him off balance. For a moment he had suspected that she had given him Falco's ring, which he would have refused, though her intention would have pleased him beyond measure. He took one last look at his hand, then let it drop by his side. She deserved better. "You know that I really wear it for you," he stated gruffly. "Narcissa be damned."

He saw a small smile lift the corners of her mouth now. It seemed he had found the right thing to say after all. Time to move on. "It's a portkey, you say?" he asked. She nodded. "I bet you can't guess to where, through," she challenged him. He moved in and put his arm around her. "Don't be too sure, I am a halfway decent _legilimens_," he threatened her. "Not fair," she protested. "Well, let's try the non-magical way first. Though I wouldn't like anything better, it can't be for Hogwarts, because of their apparition rules. After all, you can apparate out and back, but you cannot apparate in. So still no sneaking up on you in your bedroom in the middle of the night." He paused, then had an idea. "Your house in London. The place with the shower."

She grinned. "Nice idea, my dear, but wrong." He frowned and tried a few other suggestions, some of them fairly outrageous, so that they were both laughing, until he finally shook his head. "Well, either you let me put a _legilimens_ charm on you, or I have to give up." She looked at him. "It's for the House of Fire at Durmstrang," she told him. His raised his left brow. "Durmstrang? Your old school?"

She paused for a moment, stoking his curiosity, then told him of her new teaching assignment. He nodded approvingly. "Well it seems you actually do listen to me on occasion. At least you are giving up your damned muggle studies for Defense against the Dark Arts. Congratulations. And you will be a Salamander. Just like your grandmother, I bet," he looked at her dress again as her choice of attire began to make even more sense to him. "My fiery Salamandra," he smiled, trailing his fingers over the bare skin of her shoulders.

She shivered under his tentative touch. "So I presume you will be teaching your pupils first what they need to defend against?" he asked, his voice silky with temptation. "I remember you telling me once that to know your enemy was paramount." She tilted her head. "You are a member of the council of governors of Hogwarts school of magic, and you are suggesting that I teach young wizards and witches the dark arts, Mr. Malfoy?" "Of course," he said. "What's the point of defending yourself against something the mechanics of which you don't even understand?"

She drew herself up, challenge in her eyes. "Have a care, Mr. Malfoy, in years to come you and your associates will assuredly fight some of my former students. And you will not like it." He smirked. "I would hope so."

She noticed then, that he had picked up another train of thoughts. He absentmindedly lifted a wine-mug from the table and drank. She cocked a questioning eyebrow at him. "A sickle for your thoughts," she said. He handed her the other mug. "You know, if you are at Durmstrang, I have half a mind to change my schooling plans for Draco. You know I only got my position on the board of governors so I could keep an eye on that old fool Dumbledore and prevent him from any actions that would jeopardize my son's education. Now, with a witch I trust at Durmstrang, I could give up on that – the job is a major pain to begin with – and I would still know that Draco was in good hands. The Malfoys have a tradition both with Slytherin and with the House of Water at Durmstrang. Plus I'd have even more reason to visit."

Eleanor took a sip of the mulled wine. "I'd be happy to look after Draco, but I could see your wife throwing a major fit if she found out." He shrugged his shoulders. "I am head of the family. He is my son," he said simply, as if that would settle matters. "If I can sidestep the headmaster of Hogwarts as a result, I'd be prepared to put up a fight with her if necessary."

"You really hate Dumbledore," she stated, looking at him. Lucius swept his hand across in a dismissive gesture. "He is a fool and he stands in our way," he answered, but found that Eleanor tilted her head and gave him a speculative look. "I think you underestimate the man," she warned him. "I have spoken with him on several occasions these past few months. He knows more than you think, and his plans a subtler than any realize. Do not be too rash to discount him." The blond wizard shrugged his shoulders. "For example?" he challenged her.

She took a deep breath. It would be dangerous to tell him this. It could even jeopardize the future of their relationship, but she had always tried to be honest with him. "What if I were to tell you, that I was hired at Hogwarts to cross the Death Eaters' plans with regards to Falco's creation, long before any of us, including Lepidus, knew about the homunculus? What if I were to tell you beyond this that Dumbledore speculated on our meeting and somehow expected that we would get involved? What if you knew that he hoped that I would be able to use our mutual attraction for each other to turn you against the Dark Lord?

It took me until last Sunday night to realize that I have been a pawn in a game that I didn't fully understand and on a board that had been set by Dumbledore a long time ago. He played well. He even told me that he took the calculated risk that you would pull me over to the side of the Death Eaters. As it turned out, his highest hopes were not realized, but neither were his deepest fears. I thought to follow the interests of my family and my own, but ultimately my will and your sense of honor served Dumbledore's intent to keep Voldemort at bay. At least I got payment for my services. So in all I am happy to leave Hogwarts and go back to Durmstrang. I don't like being played like that."

Lucius Malfoy stared at her, his grey eyes hardened by anger when she finished. "What payment?" he demanded, his voice cold with suspicion. Eleanor looked at him. "You." He frowned. "Me? How can Dumbledore make any decisions regarding me?"

She shook her head. "No, you, as you are, no investigation, no interrogation, no arrest, no demotion from the board of governors, not a word about your alliance with Lepidus. That's what I asked for. That's why no one went bothering you, and that's why you are safe. They could have taken you in. Once they had Lepidus on veritaserum they knew everything. Your contacts didn't get to him first to obliviate him. The aurors told me when they questioned me. Yes, Dumbledore has that much influence. Surprised? I certainly was."

For once she had rendered her lover speechless. Thoughtfully he moved his thumb over his lips. "By Hecate," he finally said. "I had no idea. How does he do that? How did he know about our involvement? Or that we even would get involved?"

Eleanor shook her head. "I didn't tell him, and I was as discrete as I could be, but I swear to you, when I came back last Sunday, he knew exactly where I'd been and I think he had a very good idea what we'd been up to. As to the likelihood of our relationship, your guess is as good as mine. Maybe he's an ace in divination and foresaw it. May be he's a _legilimens_ and realized you are my ultimate wet dream. Maybe he knows you just can't resist a bit of pureblood skirt, who knows." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I am your wet dream?" he asked suggestively. "No," she taunted him. "I go crazy like this with all the guys I meet…"

They fell silent again. Finally Lucius grasped her hands. "Thank you for using what leverage you had on my behalf," he said quietly. "I owed you," she smiled, "For the deflected cruciatus, for saving me from the burning spell and for your restraint in not fighting me over the homunculus. Just be on your guard with regards to Dumbledore. I think he feels he's paid his debt for now. The next time he's challenged he may decide to follow through." The blond wizard nodded. "I will keep that in mind."

He finished the last of his wine and looked at her expectantly. "So, how about my other birthday present?" he asked. She stared at him. "Not here," she declared resolutely. "Not with this guy here. It may be Halloween, but that's too creepy. We can go and apparate at your house later, if you wish and I'll grant you carte blanche, solemn word of honor. First I was rather hoping we could stay and dance and watch the fireworks, though."

She held out her hand, smiling at the suggestive leer that curled his lips at her promise. "We should not have to be skulking up here like a couple of pissed off teenagers, you know. After all, even though I am a Sartorius, I reassure you I am really not ashamed to be seen at your side and show you off for a bit." She winked at him and placed her mask back over her eyes when she saw that she had actually managed to dent his pride. He offered her his arm. "Insufferable arrogance," he murmured.

Then as he turned to leave with her he picked up her wine goblet and offered a parting toast to the silent inhabitant of the room. "Happy Halloween, Mulciber, and cheers old chap. Lepidus is in Azkaban and I'll promise I'll take care of young Mulciber and find someone else to do the clean-up work from now on."

A few minutes later they joined the couples on the dance floor in the main hall, and as Lucius Malfoy inhaled the slight scent of frankincense that rose from the fire-clad body of the dancing partner in his arms and caught a glimpse of the scowling face of his wife in the crowd, he decided that his birthday had not been a complete waste of time after all.

He had once again managed to maneuver himself out of a tight spot. His cover had held against all odds. Durmstrang offered new and exciting opportunities, and if he had any say in the matter there was still a long night to follow the evening's entertainments. Life was definitely going to be good this winter!


End file.
